


11:59

by laurelsalexis



Series: Spread Your Wings [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bat Family, Because she's awesome obviously, Bruce really wants the Black Canary on the Justice League, Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, F/M, Fake Character Death, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:35:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laurelsalexis/pseuds/laurelsalexis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For all intents and purposes Dinah Laurel Lance was dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've wanted to do this since last July when I posted that tiny one-shot (which technically will occur in this verse, but this is serving as a prequel), but I was a patient bird and waited till BvS actually came out. Laurel's death is heavily speculated and this is basically what I would do...to an extent. I'd keep her alive but Arrow writers hate her. I'm also going to do my best to connect the two worlds, but mostly I'm just implanting Laurel into Bruce's world. Some of the Arrowverse characters will appear, but this is mostly focusing on the movie universe. 
> 
> Timeline wise this is rather soon after BvS and definitely before Suicide Squad. Man of Steel happened before Laurel was BC so I figure she just believed whatever the news would play, knows of Superman but didn't think much of it, and BvS happens while she's 'dead' so she knows just what the papers and TV played. 
> 
> Beware of movie spoilers. I tried to avoid them but it was pretty hard.

Laurel woke screaming. Screaming so loud and so hard that she felt like she was going to burst. She couldn’t stop. She didn’t _want_ to stop. Even as the people around her fell to the ground, the glass shattered, and everything effectively became a disaster zone…she wanted to scream until she just couldn’t anymore. It was freeing and for once she felt powerful. 

She never got to feel that way. 

Not the feeling lasted all that long. Before she knew what was happening her back was against the ground, hitting with a thud, a hand grasped tight around her throat until she stopped. 

Well that was one way to do it. 

The once almighty grip loosened from around her throat and she found her ability to breathe returned, looking up at the person she didn’t recognize climbing from off of her. Her own hand moved to her throat and rubbed it. Not that it felt any different, but that scream was _new_. Once she looked around her she realized the people she was surrounded by were just as new, along with the environment she was in. She tried to figure out exactly what happened but her brain wasn’t giving her much help. Trauma could do that to a person. 

What she did remember was the horror that Malcolm Merlyn put her through. She chose to continue to largely ignore it. Instead she focused on how sore her body was. She couldn’t remember being that sore in a long while. Slowly, the former vigilante sat up as she found her breath returning to normal, the panting gone, crossing her legs in front of her as she refused to stand. There was a pain in her chest, causing her hand to slip from her throat to the bandaged area. That was one of the few things she didn’t need to ask about. 

They had been taking care of her. That didn’t help with her confusion. 

“What happened?” 

The only way to get answers was to ask, but they didn’t give her anything. They just stared at her like she was some new kind of mystical being. She supposed she was. The sound emitted from her wasn’t anything that she ever made before, or even anything the gadget Cisco made her could emit. It was different. More her. Her mind drifted to thoughts of Ray and Barry. Things happened and they were suddenly amplified versions of themselves. That wasn’t exactly putting it accurately though. But it was all she could think of. 

She suspected no one around her was giving her answers because they didn’t know much more than she did. 

That wasn’t comforting.” 

The powerful feeling fell away from her and all she could feel was how out of control she felt...and how defeated she felt. It reminded her of a similar feeling she felt when Tommy died, but she didn’t want to slip down that hole again. She couldn’t slip down that hole again. 

After a few moments she found two women dressed in black helping her up and guiding her in silence to her room. She wasn’t put in the pit, _a_ pit, that much she knew, but what happened wasn’t clear. 

It annoyed her. 

She didn’t know anything and for someone who was a lawyer...knowing nothing only ever got her into trouble. Death almost found her once...knowing nothing could only hurt her. If Malcolm came after her again she wouldn’t be so lucky. 

Patience was a virtue and eventually that virtue would pay off as she later learned it was Nyssa who helped her. She was far from Star City, somewhere in Asia, _where_ she didn’t quite know. Nyssa had taken her there under the guidance of Oliver to let her heal from the wounds sustained by Malcolm. Laurel wasn’t the only casualty. Malcolm and Darhk had formed some kind of evil alliance and it was the two members of the Lance family in Star City that were the casualties. 

As the days passed certain bits and pieces came back to her. One of those was watching the death of her father. It began to haunt her. Each time she closed her eyes it was Damien taking his revenge...on them both. It was a nightmare she could do without, but one she would never be able to escape. She escaped with her life but the scars would remain. Now she was under protection of those once associated with the League of Assassins that didn’t quite exist anymore, a favor by Nyssa, because they were _friends._ At least until Nyssa disappeared from her life, someone she probably wouldn’t see again, or at least, for a long time. 

For all intents and purposes Dinah Laurel Lance was dead. 

The room she was assigned to vaguely reminded her of the time she and Thea brought Sara to Nanda Parbat to use the pit...against the wishes of nearly everyone. She didn’t regret what she did in order to save her sister. Those were just memories now. All she could focus on was being there and vaguely feeling like she was in some sort of prison. She felt alone. She _was_ alone. It was her in a strange place with strange people trying to recover from the damaged done onto her by Malcolm. 

A stab wound by a sword to the chest was a grave injury and took a lot for her to truly recover. 

Until then she was left alone with her thoughts. Not that she was a stranger to that. 

Part of her always felt like alone even when she was on team, but this was a new kind of alone. Everyone thought she was dead and that meant, much like Roy, she had to act as if she actually was. That meant no contact with anyone. It was difficult to not reach out to Thea or Felicity. Nyssa offered her a few kind words before disappearing off to tell Sara the truth, but it was just her in a village where she knew nothing, no one, and had a hard time communicating thanks to their lack of English and her lack of knowledge with any language that wasn’t English. 

Was this the way her life was going to be from now on? Nyssa didn’t tell her how long it would last or where she would end after that. She had to entertain the idea that her death was permanent, and she would very well need to think about what a new life she would want for herself. 

She mostly stayed in the room until she was well enough to move without feeling like her chest was suddenly going to rip open. The isolation was difficult, but moments came in which she would just wander around in the fresh air, among the trees and flowers, the bright sun making her feel like she was in an oasis. One of the few things to keep her from going completely crazy. She had enough of those moments to last her a lifetime. 

Finally a time came in which she was deemed well enough to move. Not that she got any answers. 

It started with meditation. She didn't find she was all that good at meditating. It irritated her to be sitting around and doing absolutely nothing. Shutting her mind off was near impossible. She was a lawyer at heart and there wasn’t really ever a time when she was doing _nothing_. Even when her sister and Oliver were dead...nothing about her was sitting idly by. She had to go to law school. All she could do was pick up her jaw off the floor, suck it up, and move on. Tommy tried his hardest to get her to relax but she never did. 

It took a couple of days but the mediation eventually brought her peace. Or as much peace as a girl with obvious PTSD could find. It only lasted as long as the session did before she was spoken to in a language she still didn’t understand. She got the general gist of the meaning, however. Enough for her to actually survive without starving to death or accidentally doing something to offend someone. 

That lasted a couple of weeks. 

By then her wound was mostly healed...at least to the point where it wouldn’t open up anymore the training began. Training she didn’t know she was going to be exposed to. 

It was tiring. 

Since Sara died, Laurel spent all of her spare time at the gym. Day in and day out she was doing some sort of training, but the near lethal blow given to her by Malcolm stopped that. She was lying around doing nothing and her body had gotten used to the new normal. She was tired by the silliest little things and once she started up again she felt like she wanted to die. 

Mercy didn’t exist. 

There was nothing she could do but get back up on the horse. Day in and day out of training was her new normal. Most of the time she ended up on the floor and she lost. She had skill sure, but what Ted and Nyssa taught her could only go so far. She learned that as she went against some who had been training their entire lives. Experience meant everything. 

Eventually she came to know Lady Shiva and if there was one person that scared Laurel to her core it was her. Not that they did much talking. It wasn’t like with Nyssa where the two women formed a friendship over the death of Sara. It was one hundred percent a business arrangement. Still, the name felt familiar and she couldn’t place why. The couple of days leading up to her incident were a blur, except with the murder of her father, along with the two weeks after it. An effect of trauma, she knew, but that didn’t make it any easier to cope with. There were ways of getting those memories back, but she was sure she wasn’t ready. She didn’t want to slip into something she couldn’t pull herself out of. Her moves were careful and deliberate. One day she would push herself but that day would not be today. 

Three weeks in, or at least what she assumed to be three weeks, she didn’t exactly have a calendar, they blindfolded her and took her in the middle of a forest. Being in a strange country, in a strange forest, in the middle of the night where the only real light she had was the dull light they gave her, along with the full moon in the sky was a recipe for disaster. It was the only time Laurel thought she was actually going to die. 

She didn’t. How she wasn’t sure. 

She struggled through and managed to find her way back. By the time she did she was starving, dirty, and marked up pretty bad with blood stained clothes. She stopped thinking about all she was doing and instead used her instincts to survive. That night she learned more about herself than she ever did in Star City. It was the first night she beat more people than beat her. It felt great. 

That night she was so exhausted when she hit her bed she didn’t dream of Malcolm once. 

Her training ended weeks later with a ticket to Gotham was set in her front of her along with a bag of her things...courtesy of Nyssa she assumed. 

Asking questions only got her no answer so she took the ticket and flew to Gotham. It was a city she knew about thanks to her incessant need to watch the news and it being on her birth certificate. Not that she ever actually spent much time there. It was probably just like all the others. 

At the bottom of her bag was a wad of cash. Most was from her bank account, drained, suddenly thankful that she was more of a saver up than anything any. There was also some extra she assumed was from Thea. The note only proved her right. Some kind of parting gift. It felt weird taking it but it wasn’t like she could exactly give it back. So she kept it. 

The day she got into town was the day the newspaper spoke of how Superman died. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was really dead or if it was a ruse of sorts. After all, the Black Canary would no longer be running around Star City. The Black Canary would disappear from the eye and the team of vigilantes would be something else entirely. One short. She was sure they would be okay, but she was lying if didn’t say she missed it. 

The suit just didn’t mean the same thing anymore. 

Most of her time was spent focused on the city she lived in as she tried to navigate it so she wasn’t completely lost. Occasionally Star City crossed her mind, but that only led her to think of everything she lost. Central City didn’t do her much better. She felt a sting at Cisco thinking she was dead. He was supportive and she had a feeling Oliver wouldn’t let him in on it. It was better that way but it didn’t make it any easier to stomach. 

Everyone who ever knew her needed to think that she was dead. It was what her mom needed to think...the only _truly_ alive member of the Lance family. Her father died just as she had, only he was really dead, and Sara was never supposed to be alive. She was off finding herself after the Hell she went through. She vaguely wondered if her mom would fight for her the way she fought for Sara...the way she just knew she was alive. 

That was a thought she couldn’t let herself focus on. Her relationship with the elder Dinah was complicated to say the least. Ever since finding out she knew Sara was on the boat with Oliver things had never been the same. That didn’t mean she wanted her own mother to think she was dead, but she had no choice. 

If Malcolm Merlyn had his way she would have been dead instead of sitting on a mat medicating somewhere in Asia she wasn’t even allowed to know the location of. Most of the time she was afraid if she opened her eyes there was going to be a sword going through her with the satisfied look on his face. Funny enough that was the same image she had whenever she closed her eyes. 

She never trusted Malcolm. Ever since she found out all she wanted was his death for what he did to Sara. Sara, her sweet little sister who deserved so much better than the way life handed her shit over and over again. She finally found that and while Laurel didn’t quite know where she was Oliver assured her that she was safe...and if nothing else she did trust Oliver. At least more than she ever had. To be fair he hurt her a thousand times over it wasn’t the easiest thing in the world to trust him. 

But after Malcolm she had to rethink her life. Damien was coming after them all and she was the next target. He killed her father without thinking twice and her mother wasn’t even on their radar, Sara was safe off in no man’s land and Laurel...Laurel knew she would never go back to the life she had. Oliver, Thea, and Diggle all promised her that they would be okay. Assured her that they could handle themselves. 

Gotham reminded her of Star City. Vigilante in Batman, corruption running rampant, a billionaire in Bruce Wayne. Oliver Queen….the Arrow...corruption. Or maybe a good handful of cities were like that. 

She didn’t know why they sent her to that city, but the truth was she needed a place to lie low for a while, and it wasn’t like she had many options. Everywhere she would be a stranger and alone. The very least she already had the plane ticket. 

Laurel was an expert at avoiding her problems. She did it after the death of tommy and she was doing it then at the death of her father. Letting herself train was the perfect way of avoiding the grief that ached in her chest. But there was no sense of distraction then. There was nothing that she could do in order to hide from the demons that were chasing her. 

And she had so many demons that were chasing her. 

She found herself sitting on the floor of her motel room, dying her hair a dark brown from the box of dye she bought at the corner store where she hoped no one knew who she was. The city was on the opposite side of the country how could they have possibly known who she was? They couldn’t. Or at least that was what she thought. But the longer she sat there the longer her thoughts got away from her and she began to feel more and more broken. 

Her grief felt heavy and she wanted a drink...that’s how she found herself at the bar. 

Sara’s leather jacket was tight around her as she slowly walked in and looked around. No one knew anything about her and that, as an addict, she shouldn’t have been there in the first place. She didn’t know what she was doing and constantly thought about leaving. Was she really willing to throw everything away for one drink? One drink that would turn into two...that would only send her down into a spiral. 

Laurel didn’t know, which was why she stayed. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” A male voice asked seconds after she took her seat. 

“I don’t know.” She turned her head then to the man who slid into the seat effortlessly next to her. “I don’t imagine many people say that to _Bruce Wayne._ ” 

“No,” he smirked with a soft shake of his head, “they don’t.” 

Bruce bought her one anyway. 

“You’re the last person I’d expect to see here and judging by the looks on the faces of everyone in here I’m right.” Laurel’s gaze darted to everyone around them. It was hard to miss the looks of everyone in the bar wondering what he was doing there. It wasn’t exactly a high class joint, and well, billionaires didn’t just walk into any place. Those thoughts she have made her far more suspicious, but she was internally focused on whether or not to drink the drink. 

Throwing away her sobriety wasn’t worth it, she knew deep down, but her life wasn’t much of a life anymore. It was her in a strange city where she was alone with her thoughts. She lost everything at the hands of Malcolm. Every thing that happened in her life could be traced back to him. Tommy...Sara...her father...her. Sure, her dad had been killed by Damien but without Malcolm maybe they would have changed the course of fate? Or was that too foolish of a thought? 

She should have been enamoured by Bruce sitting next to her, like half the girls in the bar were, but her eyes were so focused intently on the drink he bought her...he could have stood from that seat and she probably wouldn’t have know the difference. 

At least until he spoke. 

“Not everyday a dead girl walks through Gotham.” 

She stiffened slightly, goosebumps covering her with how close he was. Her eyes lifted from the drink as she turned her head to actually look at him. “I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You see, Miss Lance, when the former girlfriend of two billionaire playboys _dies_ ….even Gotham reports it.” His hands pushed her hair from her shoulders, it falling along her back. “Some hair dye won’t cover it.” His thumb brushed over a spot behind her ear. “You left a spot.” 

Laurel bit down on the inside of her cheek in order to keep her composure. Poker faces weren’t always her best, but right then it had to be. “Are you following me?” She finally asked once she realized how damn long it took her to find her voice. Her gaze drifted from him and moved back to her drink, stirring it with the little red straw, worrying about him more than her sobriety. 

“I was already here.” His voice was casual. 

“Is that why that girl is thinking about murdering me?” She asked as she looked up at a blonde with quite the low cut dress. “Poor girl...lost her chance to take a ride with Gotham’s playboy billionaire.” 

He smirked and she hated how much she liked it. 

“If she kills me you’re getting haunted.” 

“Something to look forward to,” he whispered as he took a sip of his own drink. “Of course, you’re already haunting me.” 

She stood up, not willing to take the risk anymore.. “Thank you for the drink, Mr. Wayne.” 

“You didn’t drink it.” 

She smiled then, hand finding his shoulder as she moved into him, before whispering in his ear. “You never said I had to drink it.” Laurel didn’t wait for a reply before she moved to find the exit. Not that she made it there with the way he grabbed at her wrist and pulled her back to him effortlessly. 

“You left this,” he said, looking down at her as he held out what left behind. 

It was a sobriety chip and she took it from his hand as she looked it over. She felt his grip released and he pulled back enough to give her space. “Thanks.” 

That time when she made it to the door, chip in hand, she made it outside. Her ever ongoing issues with addiction weren’t exactly a secret, but with him knowing who she was and how she wasn’t dead, along with being Bruce freakin’ Wayne of all people she didn’t feel any better. But she was sober. Stone cold sober and that was something. She wouldn’t let this turn of events ruin her life. The memories of those she loved deserved more than that. 

* * *

Laurel’s first assumption that Gotham was just like Star City was wrong. It was nothing like she imagined it would be and it was nothing like she was used to. It was darker if that was possible. The entire feel of the city made her feel different...the people made her feel different. She hadn’t quite decided how she felt about it. 

It took her a couple of days to find her footing. She didn’t go by Laurel, instead she went by Dinah. Did it really make that much of a difference? Probably not, but it was never a name she went by so it made all the difference to her. That with her name plastered everywhere as Laurel...along with her now darker hair...it was her different but herself all at the same time. 

She just couldn’t let herself go completely. 

The motel room was something forgotten as she found herself a decent enough apartment to rent on the downlow for a while. She knew she could handle herself so she wasn’t all that concerned about the location of it. It was the loneliness within in that was more of a threat than anyone could be. 

After the death of Tommy she spent most of her time alone. The only time she was around people was when she was at work, but that ended up spiralling her into something that made her the worst version of herself. Everyone was disappointed in her and she was disappointed in herself. She should have been stronger than she was. Only she couldn’t go back in time. No matter what she thought of herself during that time or what anyone else thought of her there was nothing she could do to reverse it. All she could do was realize that she was stronger now and not allow the events of Damien and Malcolm ruin her completely. 

They didn’t deserve the satisfaction. 

Sitting in her apartment was the last thing she needed so she grabbed her jacket and found herself walking through the cool night air of Gotham. Dangerous, sure, but she needed some kind of distraction. If anything happened surely she could handle herself. 

Not that turning down an alley was a good idea….even in the daylight. When she looked up she noticed that she was face to face with Batman. Talk about luck. She wasn’t doing anything wrong and yet, there was an instant intimidation. 

Her gaze was only focused on him for a few moments before the sound behind her caught her attention and there was a bullet making it’s way to her. She didn’t have time to get out of the way and instead felt it hit her, a scream emitting from her throat, that was less of a scream and more of a _cry_. It wasn’t intentional, which made it all that worse. She heard windows shattering around her and the men falling to the ground, before her own consciousness was waning and she was struggling to keep her balance. 

Laurel did her best to brace herself against the wall, but it was to no avail, eventually closing her eyes and vaguely feeling the strong arms catching her before she fell to the ground. 

* * *

It was a few hours before Laurel regained consciousness. She slowly sat up, her hand flat against the metal she was lying on, struggling to keep herself from toppling over. The last thing she needed was more injuries to her ever growing list. That and she really didn’t want to make a fool of herself...wherever she was. That probably should have been her first priority. 

She blinked a few times before she regained her sight back, able to see around her. It was dark mostly, glass everywhere she turned, which couldn’t have been good, and what looked like...rock walls over anything else. But that couldn’t have been right? The last thing she needed was to be kidnapped in some strange place in Gotham where no one but Bruce Wayne of all people knew who she was. 

They hadn’t spoken since the night in the bar and that was well over a week ago. She didn’t exactly think they were going to be fast friends or she would ever see him again when he wasn’t on the front page of the paper for some big event he did that the town residents praised him for. Not that he wasn’t deserving, he was. It just wouldn’t be all that helpful to her in the moment. 

She let out a breath as she swung her legs around so they were hanging over the edge, but then her side started to burn. Not the first injury she had, but the leather jacket that Sara gave her wasn’t exactly made out of the same stuff her Black Canary suit was. It went right through her and she could feel the obvious stitches closing her wound. 

“What the Hell?” Was all she could whisper to herself as she lifted the hem of her grey t-shirt, one that was stained with blood, and noticed the wound was closed. Swollen but closed. Small thing. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” The voice of an elder man came to her. 

Laurel studied him for a moment. He didn’t look threatening, but that didn’t exactly mean anything. Growing up she didn’t think Malcolm Merlyn would turn out to be the glorious douchebag he was, but that changed all too quickly. “Where am I?” 

He didn’t quite reply and instead handed her a cup. That didn’t make her less suspicious. “Outpatient recovery.” 

She wasn’t amused. “What is this?” 

“Tea.” He answered as if it was the most obvious thing. 

She just glared for a moment before looking down in the cup before sniffing it. It seemed normal, but the last couple of months told her that her life was anything but normal anymore. So she asked, “Anything in it?” 

“I could read you off a list of ingredients if you so desire. But trust it will not kill you. That bullet removed tried that for us.” 

She arched her eyebrow then. “Who are you?” 

“Alfred Pennyworth.” 

The name didn’t register with her, but nothing really did. The only reason she knew Bruce, Superman, and Batman was because she had the ability to pick up a paper. “You know who I am.” 

But before an answer she was greeted with the presence of someone else. She heard him before she saw him, trying to turn but with the injury on her hip it proved very quickly to be a bad idea. It hurt like hell. 

“The Black Canary is a metahuman.” 

Laurel swallowed and instantly knew the voice. It was the very one who whispered in her ear that night in the bar and the one who stopped her from drowning her sorrows in a drink and ruining all she had worked towards. She took a sip of the tea to give her a moment to actually come up with a reply. This whole thing was getting weirder and weirder by the moment. Suddenly...it seemed like sending her to Gotham wasn’t that much of an accident. After she swallowed she set the cup down and looked between the two men her senior. “The Black Canary doesn’t exist anymore.” She was firm about that. Suddenly as he appeared Alfred disappeared, leaving her alone with the billionaire. “I should go.” She stood up against all better judgement. Her legs gave out and suddenly she was in his arms, looking up at him with something of a huff coming past her lips. “Or not.” 

He sat her back down on the little table and stepped back...watching her. It was weird. 

“How did you know?” Laurel asked as she finally broke the silence. 

“That Oliver Queen, his little sister, his bodyguard, his former girlfriend, and his current girlfriend were the vigilantes in Star City. You’re not the best at disguises.” 

Fine, she couldn’t deny that. She was the one who shed her wig and they didn’t really bother with the voice things anymore. Some suits and eye masks that didn’t really cover all much weren’t going to make them hidden from view. Especially given she was sure her face was all over the news after her death. Putting Damien Darhk in jail didn’t help matters. She couldn’t remember how many interviews she gave about it. All saying the exact same thing...justice prevailed. For a moment, at least. Justice seemed to lose in the end. 

But he wasn’t done, “Dinah Laurel Lance dies and the Black Canary is nowhere to be found…” 

She put her hand up, “Okay, I get it.” 

“When did you become a metahuman?” 

She yanked down part of her shirt and exposed the top of the scar that her trauma left with. “When that happened.” Her fingers ran over the all too smooth skin, her eyes closing as she could see him above her. She opened her eyes almost as quickly as she shut them. Laurel didn’t exactly want to relive her trauma while he was looking on. 

When she opened her eyes and focused on him she was aware of how handsome he was. That night they met she hadn’t taken too much notice. He looked older standing before him, but then she realized he was older. Older than her and Oliver that was for sure. Probably older than John. The flashes of grey running through his hair only made him look more. “You’re the batman,” she finally stated. It wasn’t much of a mystery as she looked around and well, he still had part of the suit on. She was a lawyer, not a world class detective. 

Bruce looked down at his attire before looking at her. “What gave it away?” 

Laurel laughed. She couldn’t remember the last time she laughed, but that only made her smile. The smile fell away soon thereafter. “I suppose I should thank you for this.” 

“Alfred,” he corrected. “I’ll pass it along.” 

“Where’s my jacket?” 

Bruce stepped away from her and grabbed it for her. “It’s probably destroyed. Blood, bullet hole...” 

“It was my sister’s.” And why holding it shouldn’t have made her feel as she did, she couldn’t help the way she swallowed to keep her composure. Sara was very much alive, but they were world’s apart. It was Laurel that was now the dead one. 

“She was with Oliver Queen when the Gambit went down.” 

“I’m not telling the story,” she told him. 

“I didn’t ask.” 

“Because you already know.” Easy enough conclusion. 

“Because I already know.” 

It was then Laurel put the jacket on. She didn’t care about the blood or the hole in the side of it. After doing her best to look at herself in it, not an easy feat while injured and pretty much stuck sitting there she sighed. “I loved this jacket.” Not that she was going to get rid of it. She was going to keep it and leave it as some kind of memory. “What was that bullet laced with?” She didn’t feel like herself, but she didn’t feel too bad either. That was a danger zone. 

“Nothing that won’t pass.” He answered, leaning back against a table, arms crossed in front of him. 

“Nothing that I’ll get addicted to?” 

“I think you’ll be okay.” 

Laurel had no reason to trust that he was giving her an honest answer, nor did she think she should take his word at face value. She did anyway. Maybe because he was the only person worthy of her trust. Batman wasn’t going to hurt her. She didn’t know a ton about him, but she knew enough. “I don’t know how to control the canary cry.” 

“Canary cry?” 

“It was a choker. It amplified my scream, but this one is real. I don’t know how those things work.” 

Bruce nodded. “I have some idea.” 

“Why do you care that I’m _me_?” She asked. “You knew in that bar, didn’t you?” 

The guilty look on his face was enough to tell her the truth, “You know about Superman.” 

“It’s all the paper and the news talk about.” 

“There should be a team,” he grew more passionate and it was impossible to not notice how personal it was for him. “One who can work together and who stop those things from happening. Those kids and families don’t deserve this. The people of Gotham deserve to know their city is safe. No more Zod or Lex or Doomsday. This city has lost enough. The people deserve better.” 

“And me because...I stumbled in.” 

He shook his head, “Because you’re worth adding.” 

Laurel really wanted to believe that. People didn’t really believe in her, so for the man before her to believe in her in any way was...not something she could just blindly accept. She was the weakest link. Even with her added training...the trust she put forth was not always the trust she got in return. “You don’t even know me.” 

“I’ve seen enough.” 

“Who else is this team?” She was too curious to not ask. 

“Wonder Woman.” 

“Wonder Woman?” 

“Like Superman…” he trailed off, clearly thinking of her, “but not.” 

“Is she your girlfriend?” 

“No.” 

Laurel didn’t give Bruce any kind of real answer. What was she supposed to do? Her identity to Malcolm and Darhk were not a secret. If word spread that Black Canary was running around a new city she’d be dead in the first week. She tempted fate once. Was she really going to do it again? It was for the greater good and there was nothing more that Laurel wanted than to help people. It was why she became a lawyer in the first place. It was why she continued on with being Black Canary when it was anything but easy. But how many people could she help if she was dead? 

That and she didn’t need to be the weakest link on the team. It wasn’t fair. The man before her had been doing it longer than she’d been out of high school and if Wonder Woman was truly anything like Superman she could probably beat every hero she’s ever known and still be on the winning side without a single hair out of place. She had more training, yes, and she was better than she’d ever been before. She could hold her own quite well against criminals before, and now she was only more confident in her abilities. 

“Can I sleep here?” 

“Sure.” But then she just laid down. “I have a bed.” 

“I’m fine.” 

She just needed sleep. 

When she woke up she instantly recognized the bed she was laying in as her own, a stark contrast from the cold metal she was on the night before. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was some kind of a dream. Her hand fell to her side and she sucked in a sharp breath at the pain. No, it wasn’t a dream. The night before was some weird kind of reality. She thought the vigilante part of her life was over. Not because she wanted it to be but because it had to be. 

Even with the possibility laid out before her it didn’t seem like it was truly possible. 

The knock on the door was what caused her to actually get out of her bed and make her way over to the door. She opened it to be greeted by no one and instead was greeted by a box sitting on the step of her door. She stepped out into the hallway to see if she could see anyone, but no one was around so she grabbed the box and shut the door behind her. She set it on the small kitchen counter and opened it, spotting the note before tearing into the mystery beneath it. 

**Your old one was ruined on my account. Least I could do was replace it. - Bruce Wayne.**

She set the note down and picked up the leather jacket that was brand new. It was nice, she had to admit, and having one that wasn’t stained in blood and had a hole in thanks to a bullet was even nicer. Even if the one he gifted her didn’t hold the sentimental value her ruined one did. She saw the way ‘The Black Canary’ was stitched into the collar….and that was the thing that really made her smile. 

_Stupid._

Her Black Canary suit got ruined in her death.The choker was the only thing she had and even then it wasn’t all that useful anymore now that she had the ability to use the cry on her own. But the jacket made her feel more like the identity she shed. 

It meant a lot. 

It meant so much that she found herself wearing it wherever she could. 

She found herself employed at a gym, much like the one she was taught by Ted Grant in, using the skills she learned from Ted, Nyssa, and the one Lady Shiva to give her something to do with idle hands. It wasn’t like the dead girl could walk into the Gotham DA’s office and see if she could find herself a job. That part of her past had to be a part of her past. 

It kept her profile low and it made her feel better about what she was doing. 

“My dad make me take these when I was about your age,” she smiled to the young girl who was standing opposite of her, “kind drag, but you know what they’re good for? Beating up guys can be kind of fun...only when the deserve it. Trust me, they will.” The young girl smiled and so did Laurel. “Now hit me.” 

The girl gave her her best punch. A good start but the sunlight from the opening door distracted her for a moment. But it was the person who walked through the door that took her by surprise. It was Bruce. 

“That’s Bruce Wayne,” the girl she was training whispered. 

“Yeah, it is. I’ll be back.” She looked around, “Could you help her for a minute, Emma?” 

“Yeah, Dinah.” 

Laurel walked over to where the guy was standing against the back wall near the door. She started using Dinah just because. It was a better fit now than using Laurel. At least with the others. “You’re gonna give everyone a heart attack.” 

“You’re avoiding me,” he announced, looking around before settling his gaze on her. 

“I’m not.” One look from him and she shrugged. “Thanks for the jacket.” 

“It was nothing.” 

“Right, you got that whole broody billionaire thing going on.” But she noticed the way he smiled. “I’ve been busy.” 

“Here.” It wasn’t a question...more like a judgement. 

“Here.” She answered it like it was one anyway. “Did you come all this way to see me?” 

“I was in the neighborhood.” 

“I know you do a lot of good for this city, but this isn’t one of your spots.” 

“Reading up on me?” 

“No.” She smiled. “But if I were I definitely would be very amused with how much time they spend gossiping about you. Though from my share of playboy billionaires it’s not all gossip is it?” 

He leaned in then, “everyone needs a cover.” 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” 

“No.” He said carefully. 

“Might wanna lose the vest and the tie...and anything you hold valuable.” 

“Why?” 

“Live a little, _Mr. Wayne_.” 

Laurel walked back over to the girl and that was when her mother appeared. “You’re doing good.” She confirmed and it felt good to say that. Being a lawyer was a different kind of good, but her in the gym giving girls the ability to not be the victim was a good all on it’s own. 

But then she was aware of Bruce standing there and couldn’t help but be amused at just how out of place he looked. She pulled him towards the ring and sipped in, watching as he followed along. Once he was standing straight up he noticed the way he rolled up his sleeves, lost the vest, and unbuttoned the first few buttons to his shirt. It was probably the most casual he ever looked. 

It also wasn’t that hard to see why he was so well liked. 

He didn’t remind her of Oliver or Tommy. At all. 

When she looked him all she saw was Bruce. Pure Bruce. A guy who was more than a decade older than her, not as polished as she’d of expected, calm and quiet, but worn. Everyone knew the story of his childhood. You had to be living under a rock to not to. Just like everyone knew the story of the Queen's Gambit going down. She was the girlfriend of playboy Oliver Queen and then it came out her sister was on that ship. 

Needless to say it took them months to leave her alone. 

Then she was the girlfriend of dead Tommy Merlyn. It took them months to leave her alone all over again. Laurel was always in the crossfire, but he didn’t look at her different. She appreciated that. He didn’t know anything about her and so he treated her like she was just another girl. It wasn’t until she was in his presence did she know that she wanted that. 

Everyone knew Laurel as the addict. Or someone’s girlfriend. Or Sara’s sister. And no one ever let her forget it. 

She got freedom when she was in the courtroom. She was doing her job and being the lawyer she always strived so hard to be. 

Now she didn’t have that. This gym in a really seedy area...seedy for her standards...for the standards of Gotham...seedy for all involved was what she had. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bruce's voice shook her from her thoughts. 

“Nothing,” she denied. 

There wasn’t really a rhyme or reason to spar with him. He was there and she took the opportunity. The gym had mostly emptied out. It well past an acceptable hour to eat dinner, but she was far more interested in this. 

Laurel moved to strike him first but he caught her hand. All she knew of Batman was the stories she heard in the streets, but those were more tales someone would find in a movie. They didn’t tell her all that much and so she decided she was going to learn for herself. Even if it was as dumb as sparring with Bruce in the middle of a gym. Everyone would just think she was a girl falling into his trap, and that was a title she could live with. 

When he moved to strike her she avoided him and tried her best not to smile. Everything about Laurel was always cocky and nearly always got her into trouble. They both continued to spar without landing anything real and he knew he was holding back. It was frustrated her. Frustrated her so much she went at him harder before he caught her and her body was back against his, his arm holding her against him at her throat, the rise and fall of his chest. 

“You make foolish mistakes,” he whispered in her ear. 

She really could have kicked herself for the way she was more focused on him then what he said. His breath was hot against her ear and it made her really distracted. “Really know how to make a girl go wild.” 

“Gotham is dangerous. You need to better anticipate your opponents.” 

“I’m teaching self defense to teenage girls in a gym,” she countered, a bit of a bite to her words. “ I think I can handle myself.” 

“Laurel...or is it _Dinah_ now?” His tone was something of a warning, mixed with something that was quite the opposite. “Cocky gets you killed.” 

“Being a _Lance_ gets you killed.” There had to be some kind of curse on her family. “You’ll be the only one who knows. Say a prayer.” She slipped out of his grip but he was quicker than her and her back hit the floor. Laurel looked up at him for a moment before sweeping her foot as he moved and down he came, hand catching himself on his hand with a thud so he hovered above her. 

“Working out pays off,” she complimented, “I can’t do it.” Finally addressing the entire reason he was there. 

“Why not?” 

“You were there that night. I need control.” 

He remained above her, his eyes never shifting from her. “They didn’t die.” 

“That’s not the point.” She met his gaze after doing her best to avoid it.. “I don't have a suit either.” 

“You’re not going to find anything you’re looking for hidden away in a gym.” 

She studied him and didn’t think he’d anticipate her next move, taking the small window where Bruce wasn’t on high alert, landing her being the one on top of him. 

“Do I need to hover too?” She asked with a little bit of that cockiness seeping back into her attitude. 

“You’re better than you’re letting yourself think you are.” 

“But not as good as you,” she finished before he could go on. 

“I’ve been doing this twenty years.. No one is.” 

“Okay, _grandpa._ ” 

Bruce just glared, which made Laurel smile. Before she looked down, only to realize the awkwardness of them and got off of him, fixing her shirt once she was standing.. 

He followed her lead and stood, stopping in front of her, looking down, the height difference glaringly obvious then. “The self doubt will ruin you before anything else does. Don’t let it.” 

Laurel’s eyes followed him as he left the ring and redressed himself, a long silence between them. “It’s not that easy.” Her words only spoken as he put his hand on the door. 

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I followed exactly zero rules in Laurel becoming a metahuman so take that with a grain of salt if you will. I still like to live under the assumption you have a gene for it, and it needs to be activated somehow (in the case of Arrow a trauma). It's vague and sketchy and I apologize, but it is what it is.
> 
> * * *
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr.](http://laurelsalexis.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world is bigger than just us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah. Hello. Hi. 
> 
> I never intended to pretty much jump ship after my first chapter was posted. I got the flu, which clearly I haven't had for the nine months I was gone. Life happened, inspiration died, other fandoms became appealing, etc. But I am hoping to be far more regular in posting. I have roughly ten chapters planned out already. They just need to be written.
> 
> This chapter references stuff in the extended cut of BvS.

Ever since he was a kid Bruce worked tirelessly. No matter what. If something managed to pique his interest he was right there investigating, learning all he could, trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. His childhood was consumed with the death of his parents, altering who he was completely, instantly. No one who watched their parents get murdered in an alley by a two-bit thug named Joe Chill was ever destined to have anything of a normal life. 

Normal was relative anyway. But as Alfred so kindly reminded him many times over...what he did was not normal. Even his choice of using the bat was rather odd, no matter they had something of a special meaning to him. 

It was that work ethic and borderline crazed obsession that got him to exactly where he was. There was no other way he could have been Batman otherwise...he’d of given up long before he started. Even with the death of his parents he was fully aware of how others viewed him, having an easy ride because of the wealth established by the Wayne name, it creating the city of Gotham, but he worked hard to maintain what he had, and to try to make it so Gotham was a city worth living in again. 

With that mindset the mere idea of giving up was so preposterous he wouldn’t even dare to entertain the thought. Not any longer. 

Not when there was far more at stake and far more to live for. 

The death of Jason Todd hit him hard. Harder than he would have imagined, but then again, death always had a way of finding him. In a way, he blamed himself for not being able to see it coming, in addition to allowing it to happen. If Batman couldn’t save someone...who could? If he couldn’t keep Jason safe and alive...the rest of Gotham was in just as much trouble. 

It was that specific incident that caused the self doubt to creep in and no one, not even Alfred, could break through it. All he could see was how much death and destruction they caused. He took down numerous villains, both alone and working with Dick and Jason, but people got caught in the crossfires. He knew it and Gotham knew it. 

None of that path was logical in thought, not when it was known that many more would have died without him, or how he managed to keep as many people alive as he could have. Without Batman, without Dick and Alfred, without Jim...who knew what the city would have become? A pit of corruption and despair, a place that no one wanted to live in, everyone wanted to run from. 

Bruce always knew all of that, deep down, sometimes really deep down, but such a loss, on such a personal level, to relive the death of his parents and the death of Jason, on something of an endless loop, was more powerful than any kind of logic. 

All of the changed with the destruction that was brought on by Superman...making the fight worth fighting. He was pushed to his limits before. It was different when it was the Joker making messes, Harley, Scarecrow, the Penguin...It was different then, but _Superman_ , someone who was supposed to be saving people, only to do so much destruction in Gotham...it couldn’t be anything but different. 

If an alien was destroying their world, then there needed to be someone to keep that from happening, and someone to keep them safe. There were some hard losses the day in which that tower went down, all of the kids who lost their parents, the parents who lost their children. It seemed almost everyone lost someone because of something out of anyone’s control, something that made Superman seem as if he was a hero, getting rid of the destruction left behind. 

He took a harder stance after that. 

No mercy. 

For anyone. 

It was kill or be killed. 

In hindsight, he knew far better than to act the way he did, and the branding of people was only a different kind of death sentence. He was too much like the criminals that he was trying to keep the city from. In a way, he wondered if he needed to be like them...to get the job done. If they were gone then he would have one less thing to worry about. 

That vision was something he learned to be misguided. 

He knew better. 

Killing and branding within the city of Gotham was only going to make the city worse, allow it to hold onto the reputation he was trying to rid it of. 

He also knew that things happened when dealing with things bigger than humans. Diana and Clark both taught him something and made him realize how little he was able to handle. Finding actual information on the rest was slow, but he was confident they would be ready the next time something above them all made it’s way to the city. 

Until then it was **Batman**. The city needed the Bat and the criminals needed to know there was something to be feared. He couldn’t leave that behind because of Jason...no matter how much that loss was going to hurt him for the rest of his life. He had his ways of dealing with it all. 

Jason’s memory deserved to be honored because of the loss he suffered, rather than have it all thrown away. At least then his death meant something. Having it mean something was the only way they could all move on. 

It was the logic he found and operated on as he made most of his decisions. The decisions that were not what he would have made when he was 20. Bruce was never the most optimistic man, but he had certain standards. Those standards broke the very moment that he broke, until a new perspective was found. 

Wasn’t that really what everyone needed? To know that man wasn’t all evil. He wondered if Diana would ever find that for herself, to think that men could actually be good. He didn’t quite know what she’d seen or been through, neither were inclined to share too much of their lives, and her age hadn’t done much to make it easy for him to find out. 

And she was _slightly_ scary. 

Tim managed to show back up in his life after that. In a way, he knew there was nothing that would happen for him to get rid of Tim forever. He was so stuck in his ways that he thought he couldn’t possibly need someone by his side, and he _didn’t_. Tim shouldn’t be out there, not with the memory of Jason. When he walked past that suit in the batcave he could see the destruction within his mind all over again. 

Until Tim’s parents were kidnapped, his mother died, his father was left in less than stellar condition, and he needed someone. He needed someone so that rage didn’t build up inside of him and he became someone he shouldn’t have become. The world didn’t need more villains running the streets, they needed more heroes protecting those who needed help the most. 

Tim was a bright kid. One that was more than just brawns. He had brains. With the training he was given he had both, the ability to channel his anger into something more useful, and the drive to be something other than a kid with a tragic event. It helped he wanted this since before them. It was the sole driving factor that led him to freely work within the city of Gotham, to earn his place in the batcave. It was just something that added to his story and something that made him better. 

Bruce was sure of it. 

Bruce also knew that having Tim there helped him in a lot of ways. So many times he was worried about what could happen to him, even sending him out of the city of Gotham under the guise of training when things were at their worst with Superman, but when everything found a calm...it was good to have someone. 

**A partner.**

He was still alone in many ways and preferred it that way, but he could get above himself and do what he needed to do. Everyone needed something and someone. 

Even when both Dick and Tim were coming in at all hours and acting the way an older and younger brother would act. It was the only way to describe it. They were rarely vicious. Except that one time Alfred and he witnessed them fighting over the last piece of pie. Which Bruce ended up taking it for himself just to prove a point. 

That night he elected Nightwing and Robin to go out into Gotham for nightly patrol, more so he could focus on the research of meta humans than anything else. Not that he was getting too far when bit and pieces of everything in which he was looking for made little to no sense...in either the world of Bruce Wayne or Batman. 

At least until he heard Dick and Tim bickering as they walked further into the batcave. 

“I could have handled it on my own.” Tim said, the annoyance clear. 

The moment Bruce turned around to see the boys he could see exactly what went wrong and that look on Dick’s face that said he was trying to keep it together. He wasn’t. Not very well. It only made Tim shove Dick, until the laughter of the older boy filled the batcave. 

So much for getting anything done. 

“What happened?” Bruce asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Tim fell into some paint.” 

“I didn’t fall...he pushed me!” 

“I didn’t push him.” Dick denied. 

“He did. I was swinging around and he got in my way, and the next I’m in a bucket of purple paint.” 

“None of that was pushing.” 

“Oh dear.” Alfred’s voice was heard as he moved from the stairs to where the three of them were. Bruce looked over at him and gave a shrug of his shoulders. Boys. 

“Dick pushed me.” 

“Bruce,” Dick pleaded. 

“Let us get you cleaned up.” Alfred spoke, guiding Tim up the stairs. “You too, Master Dick. You both can tell me the story and I shall be the judge of who pushed who.” 

Dick frowned visibly at that. A losing battle. 

“Good luck.” Bruce said before walking over to the computer knowing that it was likely going to be Tim who won the argument. For whatever that was worth. 

If nothing else it was an amusing few minutes, even if the whole night seem to have gotten nowhere. The boys were gone for a few hours and during that time his dinner had gotten cold and he only had more questions than answers. Dick and Tim wouldn’t find themselves back on the streets of Gotham that evening. Instead the criminals would have a night to themselves. The city would survive. 

The boys spending the evening in the company of Alfred was another survival story entirely...certainly if Tim desired to extract revenge right then and there. 

He’d worry about that another time. 

Instead he relaxed back into the chair and focused on the myriad of screens he had pulled up. His research had gotten him very little. He had gotten as far as knowing that the one with the incredible speed was from Central City...not that he had the ability to find his identity just yet. If nothing else the ability to keep his identity a secret was quite impressive. 

As for the powers of the metahumans themselves and those that could possibly exist in the world...he didn’t know quite that much. Everything was a mystery and it only managed to intrigue him more. The concept wasn’t entire new between Superman and Wonder Woman, and what Poison Ivy managed to be, something he hadn’t exactly spent all that much time worrying himself over. Not when she was locked away in Arkham. Seeing and hearing what the Black Canary did only managed to prove that there was so little he actually knew about that world. 

All he knew was his world. He was so immersed in the world he created, the villains that he felt as if he was constantly putting away, and the way that the death of Jason consumed him so much that things fell into a state of chaos that even he couldn’t control. No one could. 

It was all changing. 

He was going to bring people together and make it so they could fight the things that needed to be fought without losing. They couldn’t afford to lose any more people, and whether or not he liked it, the world needed Superman. Only they didn’t have Superman, Lois didn’t have him, and his mother had to bury her child. 

Unlike the death of Jason that all but broke him, only turning briefly to look at the suit that hung in the glass, a friendly or not so friendly reminder of what happened. The death of Clark brought something else. It made him believe in something that he didn’t know he could believe in. he was going to be better. 

A team wasn’t much with just him and Diana. She could handle far more than he could, she was far stronger, and saw so much more of the world. He had his skill, but her skill was immeasurable. 

The longer he looked at the videos the more he realized they were all something far more than he was. If they existed, then who knew what was going to exist more in the evils of the world. 

Worse than the Joker. 

Now that wasn’t a thought he truly wished to entertain. 

But as the deeper he got into his circles of nothing even less managed to make sense. 

“Alfred, I’m going out.” Bruce said as he arrived from out of the batcave to the main floor of the house, watching as Dick and Tim fought over food on the counter. 

“A social engagement, perhaps?” 

“Don’t wait for me.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Master Wayne.” Alfred spoke and they both knew he would be right there waiting for when he returned. Forty years and absolutely nothing about Alfred changed, their relationship only managed to grow stronger, and he was the one he needed in the wake of the death of his parents’. 

“Try not to kill one another tonight.” He told Dick and TIm, both of whom tried to seem innocent. If there was ever such a thing. 

The GPS in his car led him directly to the apartment in which he knew Laurel was residing at after settling into Gotham. How he knew that information wasn’t the most important...he had a little habit of knowing more than he perhaps should have. 

After walking up the elderly set of stairs he knocked but there was no answer. He was most definitely out of place and it showed by his attire, if anyone there recognized him it would have been cause for confusion. Instead it seemed to be empty, a smart move for someone who did not wish to be discovered, a dangerous one for anyone living in Gotham. 

The way in which he entered the dark apartment was something of a questionable move, even for him. She wasn’t there and he needed to see for himself, see if the way in which things weren’t adding up would eventually bring him to something else. It wasn’t as if anything about Laurel screamed supervillain, but anything was possible in the city of Gotham. 

There were never clear answers. 

The apartment itself was mostly bare. A bed, a closet full of clothes, a few things sitting on top of the table. Had he not known she lived there, nothing would give away the fact that she did. After his minimal snooping, taking a police approach and not daring to look at anything that wasn’t in plain sight, he took a seat on the chair and let the file sit in his lap. His eyes drifted down to the watch on his wrist that told him it was later than he thought it was. 

It took an hour before he heard her fussing at the front door...a lot longer than he expected. 

“Shit.” Laurel said once the light was turned on, jumping back a bit, her hand landing over her chest. “Even Deathstroke used the door.” 

“Deathstroke?” Bruce questioned, knowing full well of who he was, but finding himself surprised she knew of him. 

“Why are you sitting in my apartment like a serial killer?” 

He watched as she took off the jacket, the one he’d given her, to reveal quite the bruise on her shoulder. “How’d that happen?” He asked rather than answer her question. 

“Work.” 

Whether that was the gym or other things he didn’t know, nor ask. Bruce stood and made his way over to where she had moved, sitting at a table, placing the file down onto the table. He remained standing, giving him the upper hand. Not above using certain tactics without his Batman gear on. 

“What’s this?” 

“Open.” He instructed. 

Laurel did as she was told and flipped through the pages that he left in there for her. 

“Dinah Laurel Lance, daughter of Quentin and Dinah Lance, dies in a plane crash with Billionaires Oliver Queen and Thomas Merlyn.” Bruce repeated from memory, looking over at her with something of an incredulous look. 

“What?” Laurel looked up at him with a completely puzzled look, one that seemed far more genuine than any fake acting could provide. 

“Something isn’t right.” 

“This is The Flash.” 

“I know.” 

“No, you have him labeled the Flash but that is not the Flash I know.” 

“I’m not entirely sure what you do know.” 

Laurel rolled her eyes. “You think I’m evil? What? I came to Gotham and made friends with Bruce Wayne to...destroy you? You broke into my apartment.” 

“Laurel.” 

“What?” She bit at him. 

"I was hoping it would never come to this." A voice came out from behind them, appearing out of nowhere. 

Instantly Bruce turned around and took a step towards the unknown man. Magic, if he had to guess. The only time he wished he had Zatanna around. 

"Doctor Fate.” He offered, holding out his hand. “Bruce Wayne and Dinah Lance.” 

"What are you doing here?" Bruce asked, not shaking the man’s hand. Briefly he looked over to Laurel, who remained seated, and looked as confused as ever. Seemed to be the way the night was moving. 

"I'm not here about you." 

"That's not what I asked." 

Doctor Fate turned his gaze to Laurel, stepping around Bruce and taking a seat. Nothing he liked one bit, but for the moment, he allowed things to progress. Laurel was by no means a damsel in distress, but he didn’t know what the man at the table would do if given the opportunity. He had to feel as if he was trusted, only to not be trusted at all. 

"This is the Barry Allen of this Earth.” He spoke, pointing to the paper. “The Barry Allen you knew is of the Earth you once lived." 

"Excuse me?" Laurel asked and looked to Bruce, who in return shrugged. 

If he had answers he’d of given them. 

"There are multiple Earths in existence...for everything and anything. No two versions of Earth are the same. The Dinah Lance and Oliver Queen of this Earth are dead for reasons beyond our control. I placed you on this Earth because it wasn't your time to die. Your journey was just beginning and you suffered enough that I made the decision.” 

"And it was Superman's time to die, Jason's?" Bruce stepped forward, barely keeping it together based on the information. 

"Those cases are special." He said quietly. 

"What does that mean? 

"You're a smart man, Mr. Wayne." Fate’s attention turned back towards Laurel. “You'll remain here. Form a new life, finish your destiny." 

"My sister," Laurel started, “I had a family, a life.” 

"You won't go back. Sara, Oliver, Nyssa, your mother...they'll believe you died." 

"Oliver knew…Nyssa...." 

"They'll honor your memory. They believe you died.” 

"I want to go back.” Laurel stood up, easily becoming more upset. “Take me back. It’s not fair. I don’t want to be here." 

"You'll remain here. It's a second chance." He stood in return, his tone gentle as could be. “Don’t waste it.” 

"How did I find out information about her life?" 

"It was manipulated but only so much time can be devoted. I clearly made some errors and broke too many rules. The truth was destined to come out. Black Siren will live your destiny. You bringing Sara back to life changed destiny. None of it is written in stone, our choices matter, it was that choice that caused you to meet you end.” 

“I did this to myself?” She whispered. 

“Follow this path.” The moment the last world left his mouth he was gone and they were left standing there. 

Bruce looked over at Laurel who was doing her best to hold it together. Only he knew that look, the one that was apparent the hole was dug, and nothing could be undone. It was one he had with Jason, only it wasn’t his own life he destroyed, it was the life of another. He still wasn’t entirely certain on how accurate any of the information that was given happened to be, but with the way the tears filled her eyes, whatever he told her hit her enough for her to believe it without too much thought. 

“Sara was dead and I brought her back. I thought she deserved to live and she did. Sara deserved to live,” Laurel whispered, brushing the tears that were falling away. “I took her to Nanda Parbat and…” 

“You put her in the lazarus pit.” Bruce concluded. 

“And John Constantine saved her soul.” 

Bruce watched and felt for her, as much as he could. Watching her there, crying, trying to process what was happening would be difficult for anyone with a human soul. Too bad there weren’t many people like that left in Gotham. 

“I didn’t know I was signing my death warrant.” She shook her head and moved over to the couch where she sat, placing her head in her hands. 

“Don’t blame yourself. You’re alive.” Bruce offered as he kneeled down in front of her. “You live here or you die there.” 

“This isn’t fake my death and one day I can go back. This is living on another Earth with nothing and no one.” She looked up at him with the mascara running, the pure despair and heartache written all over her. “This is not the dream life.” 

Bruce tried to sympathize but wasn’t able to really understand. His life had turned upside down on more than one occasion, but it was _his_ life. His world. His home. He wasn’t in a place where his whole world was a new place, where nothing seemingly existed as it once had. 

“Grab your jacket.” He had an idea that wasn’t anything inside her apartment. 

“Why?” 

“Grab it.” 

Laurel got up and fixed herself before she grabbed her jacket. Slowly the pair walked down to the car. In silence. Silence was somehow easier. There wasn’t a need to fill it, and even if there was he wasn’t sure that there was anything that he could say. For all he knew, he didn’t know her, and couldn’t know all that much about her life. 

“Show up in my apartment in the dark and then take me to….Metropolis.” 

“Most girls would love to be in my car.” 

Laurel smiled, just barely. “Most girls who end up in your car are hoping to end up in your bed...and most probably do.” 

Bruce didn’t argue with that. It was less than she probably thought, but more than when it was more of a ruse, before everything to fell to pieces and human comfort was good with the drinking and the endless bottle of pills that sat on his nightstand. None of that worth sharing, anyway. It took a little longer before they were out of the car and standing in front of the large S on the ground. 

“No matter how immune we think we are...we all fall.” Laurel whispered, squatting down and running her hand along the edge of it. 

“And we can all get back up. You were like him. Maybe you don’t have superhuman strength but you have a power, an ability. One that so few have. I failed him, he died, and I learned from my mistakes. You have a second chance...the ability to rewrite history, to help me make it so others don’t have the same fate. For the life you led, for the life he could have led, for all of the fallen.” 

“Were you two friends?” Laurel questioned but didn’t look back at him. 

“Not for long.” Bruce didn’t have enough faith that Clark was someone who would do the world good, over fail the world. He thought the worst in him and saw him as a problem that needed to be stopped, someone to go to a war with, when the war against them and they needed to stand together. Just as they needed to stand together for the future. Something was coming. He just knew it. 

“People remember him.” 

“No one is ever forgotten, not entirely.” Even the man who murdered his parents was not someone that could be forgotten, and he was no one. He was absolutely no one worth remembering, but so many nights he thought of they were going home, the way his life changed. 

“I’ll help you if you need me.” 

He turned to look at her as she stood. “But…” 

“No buts.” She forced a smile. “I could be a lawyer again.” 

“Gotham could use someone honest. It’s a thankless job with a death sentence.” 

“I’m already used to that.” 

* * *

“You jumped from a building?” Bruce asked as they walked down the street, ice cream in hand. He could have taken her straight home, but the night was quiet, something that was out of the ordinary, and it helped to pretend that he was normal. Something that he was most definitely not, something he didn’t think she was either. Nothing more than mere conjecture on his part. 

Laurel shrugged, “I knew Oliver would grab me.” 

“And if he didn’t?” 

“I’d be dead, which…” She smiled before licking her mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

“Don’t jump from buildings without proper tools.” 

“Why because you won’t catch me?” 

“No, because I’ll catch you then yell at you, which neither of us will prefer.” Nothing but the truth spoken, even in such a casual manner. “There’s an opening in the District Attorney’s office, unless you’re more interested in keeping me rich, which there is also an opening in my company. We go through lawyers quickly.” 

“All billionaires do.” Laurel replied. “I’d much rather put criminals behind bars. It’s been a long time since I’ve done that.” 

A better answer, he thought. Not that he would have judged her had she wanted to work for him, because he wasn’t really in the business of destroying the city, only keeping it running. He did his best to put as much back into Gotham as he could. “I can put in a word for you.” 

When Laurel didn’t reply Bruce turned to see what managed to catch her attention in the sky. So much for something of an easy night. 

“You have a flying bat symbol in the sky.” 

“It’s helpful.” Far better than giving Jim a phone number that he would likely rarely answer. 

“Pretty cool.” Laurel smiled and finished the ice cream. “You can go.” 

“I’m not leaving you here.” 

“I can take care of myself.” 

“I’m sure,” and he was, “but I’m still not leaving you here.” 

When she didn’t protest again they both found the car and he drove her home. He didn’t really know what to make of Laurel. It was a rarity to meet someone in the city that just...were what they seemed. Outside of Barbara but even then, she spent more time with Dick than he’d spent with her. She wanted to make sure her father didn’t find out, though Bruce had an inkling he already knew. 

“Go save, Gotham.” Laurel spoke as she got out of the car, “You don’t need to worry about me.” 

“Then I won’t.” It was a lie but he thought it was a convincing one. 

By the time he managed to get in the batsuit and on top of the roof to meet Gordon he knew he took longer than anticipated, but that didn’t stop him from standing there as he usually did. Stoic, hidden in the shadows, composed with a flat look on his face, arms hanging down next to him. 

“Commissioner.” 

With the cigarette in his hand he turned back to look. “The mayor is missing.” 

“Do you have any clue as to what happened?” 

“He was supposed to show up for a dinner. When he didn’t there was a note that said ‘dead men tell no tales’ with a picture of an owl on it.” 

“I’ll look into it.” 

When Jim turned around to look out ahead at the city Bruce left, not waiting around to hear the rest of Jim said. Personal anything was nothing he was in the mood for that night. 

Bruce found his way back home to where he could see if they could find any information. He could check the city surveillance and listen in to see if he could find any information. Only something told him that it was hardly going to be that easy. One of the cases in which he knew things were going to be difficult and they were lucky if they found the mayor at all. 

“Did you find anything?” He asked Dick who was sitting in front of the computer. 

“Nothing yet.” 

“Where’s Tim?” 

“He went home. He’s worried about his dad getting suspicious lately.” 

Bruce nodded and found himself behind the chair Dick was sitting in, slightly hovering as he read the screen. It didn’t seem to provide much information. His eyes glanced at all of the surveillance footage. Nothing. It was almost as if the mayor just disappeared completely. Not one single trace. Whoever was behind everything really knew exactly what it was they were doing. 

“Babs hasn’t heard anything either.” 

“Get some sleep, Dick. I got it.” 

“I can stay.” 

“You don’t need to watch over me.” Bruce said as he mostly ignored Dick and focused on the screen and trying to find some answers. 

“We worry.” 

“I’m fine.” As fine as he was ever going to be. He heard Dick sigh before he was gone and it allowed him to focus on the problem at hand, not what he and Alfred thought about his coping mechanism and how secluded he’d been. 

Putting on the batsuit and being with out there was where he felt most at home, not in his home, not working, not dealing with all of the things he had to deal with in order to be able to do what he had to do. 

Being Bruce Wayne was something he had to be, but being Batman was something he wanted to be. 

Laurel managed to get too much of his attention. A good thing and a bad thing. A girl from another world he couldn’t possibly understand. He knew so little and the information set in front of him. That unsettled him even more. Gotham was his home but some moments came in which he happened to realize just how little he knew about the world around him. It was his city but how much did he really know? How much could he really know? So caught up in things that were large within his life, but were small within the life of others….that didn’t mean anything. 

Jason was his big loss, but to someone who lost their own Jason was just someone who kept the world turning. he didn’t mean anything. 

It was bigger than him, something he had to keep telling himself, rather than slip into things and practices he wanted nothing to do with. It was all bigger than him, but he needed to be the one to bring others together so they could defeat people that were larger than just the joker. Beings...not even people. 

She would need to be put on the backburner until the mystery of the mayor was solved, and then he would try to find out other information on the metahumans. Diana was on her own little mission and until she got back he was on his own. 

Whenever that was. 

A few more hours passed before he reluctantly made his way upstairs and fell into his bed. Exhaustion was something that was a part of him, but nothing he ever tried to cure. The amount he drank before sleeping was alarming for anyone and the fact that it did nothing to help the nightmares he had only managed to irritate him more. 

He officially slept seventeen minutes longer than usual before the nightmare was too much and he sitting up on the edge of his bed. 

It was two minutes later before he was washing down the pills with something he shouldn’t have been. 

Another ten and he was doing his workout as normal. 

As much as he wanted to focus himself on the mayor it was one of the days where he had to show his face at the company, attending a board meeting to make sure things were running smoothly, even if he put most of his faith in Lucius. Without him he had absolutely no idea where the company that his family built would be. 

While the day was busy being devoted to the company he kept in touch with both Dick and Alfred, who promised to update him with any information they found. Only problem was they weren’t finding anything. 

How could the mayor of Gotham just...disappear? People disappeared off the streets all the time, that much he knew. A sad reality, but it was the Mayor. He was a high profile figure. No one could just take him without someone seeing something. Whoever was behind it was far more skilled than most. Even with the Joker, Bruce knew his move. It was a show. 

None of what was happening was a show. 

A week passed and absolutely nothing changed. 

No word from the mayor, no word about the mayor. It was as if he never existed in the first place. Gone without a trace. 

The whole city was on edge because of it and as the days passed, Bruce only grew to be more on edge right along with them. If the Batman couldn’t figure anything out then how were the cops supposed to? Jim was one of the few honest on that force. Most others ran with corruption and took a buyout wherever they say fit. Not that he’d gotten all that far by spending his nights interrogating them. Dick and Tim didn’t get any further either. 

His secretary brought him coffee and a paper as he sat in his office, looking out the window. It was sunny for once. He could see the people on the ground living their lives. He knew the darkness the city held. If only it could be sunshine and smiles everyday. 

Letting out a sigh he turned in his chair to see the front page of the newspaper. 

The fact that the title said Dinah Lance of Star City found alive in Gotham was likely the least surprising turn of events. He resigned himself to thinking it was something that the world just didn’t make sense of, that he had information of her life, only to be able to find nothing, as if the information didn’t exist, or even the idea that there were more worlds than just the one he existed on. 

Zatanna assured him that it was not some rouse, and their was, in fact, multiple Earths existing all at the same time. 

Still, it was a hard pill to swallow. He was a smart man to not think they were alone in the universe, but to have copies of themselves in other worlds...was beyond even him. 

“If someone needs me call.” Bruce said as he walked out of his office and past the secretary. 

“Yes, Mr. Wayne.” 

The day after the mayor went missing Bruce gave the DA’s office a recommendation in the form of Laurel, and he also knew that she started working there not long after that. The leak in the paper had to come from somewhere. He made his way down to the inner workings of Gotham, coffee in hand. 

He wanted to be more Bruce, less Batman. 

Walking through the doors he greeted everyone with a smile. It wasn’t his first time down there and certainly wouldn’t be his last. Showing himself through he saw her sitting at her desk pouring through a bunch of case files. Nothing new in Gotham. Always far more cases that needed to be prosecuted over cases they could actually handle. 

To have a competent ADA was priceless. 

“Coffee and….a third copy of the newspaper I already have.” Laurel said as she put it onto the pile but took the coffee. “Thank you.” 

“Hear from Vicki Vale yet?” 

“She’s left three messages.” 

“Good luck.” Vicki was not exactly the type of reporter that was all that eager to let a story go. 

“Bruce Wayne, as I live and breathe. What are you slumming it here for?” 

“Jenna.” Bruce turned and gave her the playboy smile, offering his hand out to her...one she had no problem ignoring. 

“Your new flavor of the month is doing just fine.” Jenna smiled at Laurel who gave a fake smile if anyone ever saw one. 

“She’s a good lawyer.” 

“I sure hope so. I have a high profile case that needs the District Attorney’s full attention. Late night, long hours, and another case.” Jenna ended as she topped another case onto Laurel’s already high stack. 

Okay, maybe Bruce shouldn’t have blown off the particular D.A. standing in front of him...months ago...when something came up with the whole situation that nearly destroyed Gotham all over again. She didn’t forget or forgive, and given billionaire Bruce Wayne had no excuse, he didn’t entirely blame her. “She’s just a friend.” 

“She’s probably onto the next billionaire and you’re...I think it was Alexandra? No, Penelope. Ashley? I can’t keep track.” She looked between them both. “I have real work to get back to. Nice seeing you, Bruce.” 

“Thank you.” Laurel said, somewhat sarcastically. “She hates me because of you and her,” she pointed to the perfect version of herself ten years younger on the cover of the paper. 

“Can you look into something for me?” 

“I’ve been working here two days and you’re already asking me for favors?” Laurel arched her eyebrow. “I know you’re not new to the billionaire business, but you need to charm a girl first, Mr. Wayne.” 

“I brought you coffee.” Bruce leaned down and flashed a smile that was completely fake before grabbing a pen, “Please.” 

“Your fake smile is creepy.” 

“Most people get to see a real one.” 

“What do you want me to look into?” 

“Can you see if there were against cases the mayor, past or present, perhaps something filed under an assumed name, John Doe, a vague complaint...anything.” 

Laurel looked up at him before sighing. “You don’t have access?” 

“The computer files aren’t pulling anything up, but I know not everything has been digitized.” 

“You owe me.” 

“Bruce Wayne.” He heard the voice as he came up to the desk before he could reply to Laurel. “I didn’t expect to see you here. And you must be…” 

“Dinah Laurel lance.” She offered her hand out. 

“Lincoln March.” He spoke as he shook her hand. “I hope you’ll attend the event for my mayoral candidate this Friday.” He looked between them. “Both of you.” 

“That’s this weekend?” Bruce questioned. 

“I know the timing is poor, but I didn’t kidnap him. I think we would have similar ideas...ways that we can make Gotham good again, along with the commissioner. We can all work together.” 

“I’ll be there.” Bruce agreed if for no other reason than maybe he could find out some information. 

Lincoln looked at Laurel. “How can I say no?” 

“I look forward to earning both of your votes.” 

“I’ll call you if I find anything.” Laurel said after Lincoln had taken his leave. “I’ll see you this weekend, _Mr. Wayne_. You should go...she’s look suspicious and she hates me as it is.” 

“Thank you again.” 

* * *

“Did you find anything out, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as Bruce entered through the glass doors. 

“Nothing.” 

“Have you spoken to, Miss Lane?” 

It was a question he didn’t bother answering. Instead he moved to the kitchen and found himself something to drink. He hadn’t even see Lois since the funeral and didn’t quite know what to say. He heard she went back to work and focused on her job, had even read a story or two, but still had no words for her. 

Nothing unusual. 

Bruce rarely had good words for anyone. 

“Laurel is going to see if she can find anything in the backed up files.” 

“Small miracles, I suppose. Similar to you drinking water instead of yet another priceless bottle of wine.” 

Bruce turned and walked down to the batcave. That line of conversation was going to go back to the same place it usually did. He respected Alfred near endlessly, and because of that he only nodded in silence rather than giving his own opinion. He couldn’t even really blame him, not when he stood by him throughout his entire run as Batman, and had seen more than anyone else ever had. 

He had Dick and to a certain extent he had Tim, but nothing was ever like Alfred. No one could ever be him. 

“She’s the Black Canary.” Tim said as he looked up at the screen. 

“Why aren’t you at school?” 

“Half day.” He answered. “She’s on the paper.” 

“I know. It’s a long story.” One he didn’t feel like elaborating on at the moment. 

“She’s pretty.” 

“She’s too old for you.” 

“Not for me, for you.” Tim glanced over at Bruce with a smile. 

“Dick put you up to this...didn’t he?” Bruce sat down in one of the chairs in front of the screens. “That’s not why I’m helping her.” 

“She’s a metahuman. That’s why you’re helping her.” 

It wasn’t anything of a wrong statement. His helping wasn’t anything innocent. He wasn’t doing it just out of the kindness of his heart, but to leave her to drown in a city like Gotham wasn’t exactly like him either. Instead he wanted to form a group of people that were just like her. A mission that was pushed to the side for the moment. 

“The world is bigger than just us.” He replied and look over at Jason’s suit, hanging there. Definitely bigger than just them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am incorporating lots of things from lots of different places. DCEU, comics, gaming, etc. and make shifting my own timeline. I want to stay as within the DCEU as I can while pulling comic influences and arcs I think would be interesting to touch on, and for all intents and purposes DCTV is pushed to the background at this point and time...that being said Flashpoint hasn't happened yet within the timeline. It might change things, it might not, we'll see.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It had been years since she was that close to rock bottom and almost didn't want to bother to pick herself up off the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up kids this is a long, rough ride. 
> 
> I'm going to warn for mental health & addiction issues in this one.

“You were always so beautiful, Laurel.” Tommy’s voice rang through the air, tucking a brunette strand of hair behind her ear. 

Laurel, in turn, smiled, one that was true, one she had been without for so long. “You’re blind.”

Her childhood bedroom enclosed them. She couldn’t remember if she ever brought Tommy there before. Oliver barely made it through with her father guarding the room.  _ Her _ . In reality he was guarding her from boys, pacing back and forth, making certain nothing inappropriate happened. They couldn’t be too close, meaning they sat opposite of one another, a mess of textbooks and notebooks in front of them. If her father couldn’t sit between the two of them they were too close. 

Why was she thinking about Oliver? 

Tommy’s voice once again pulled her from where she was lost deep in her mind, “Never.” 

Laurel smiled, eyes taking in his facial features, committing everything to memory. She leaned in to kiss him, unable to help herself, palm resting on the side of his face. Just like she remembered, without all of the grief weighing them both down.

“Too close.” Quentin’s stern voice interrupted them.

“ _ Daddy _ .” Laurel gave a bit of a whine, breaking apart from Tommy, unable to stop herself from smiling.

Quentin remained stand in the doorway, arms crossed as he looked at the pair on the bed. “I have a gun.”

“More space, sir.” Tommy nodded. “Understood.”

“Don’t let him die, sweetheart.” Quentin said disappearing into thin air.

Laurel’s face fell near immediately, eyebrows knitting together, turning to look at Tommy.  _ Tommy _ , sweet Tommy, who did nothing but love her and paid the price. Always paid the price for it. The pain in her eyes was clear, the  _ guilt _ , the feeling of wronging him, never being enough, never being what she should have been, what she  _ could  _ been. He deserved better. 

“You let me die. How could you let me die?” Tommy began to pale as the words came out of his mouth.

“I didn’t. I wanted you, I’m sorry.” 

“You wanted  _ Oliver _ .” He bit back at her.

“No, that’s….” She shook her head, trying to reach out for him, but she couldn’t. He was right there but he wasn’t. She couldn’t reach him. She needed to reach him. She needed to save him. Tommy couldn’t die. No, not again, not ever. 

“A truth. I know you were never mine and he was never yours. I loved you, Dinah Laurel Lance. You didn’t love me, you couldn’t love me. Just like Oliver couldn’t love you. Oliver never loved anyone but himself.”

“No, Tommy, I was yours.” She closed her eyes to keep the tears from falling down her cheeks. She couldn’t do this. Not with him. He didn’t understand and she didn’t blame him. Only managed to blame herself. She didn’t deserve either of them. After a breath she opened her eyes onto find them both in the CNRI building, watching as Tommy laid there,  struggling. “Tommy, please. It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.” 

“Let me go, baby. It’s okay. You’re next.” His unsteady voice barely managed to get the words out, eyes closing as he let death consume him. 

“Such a pretty little bird.” Malcolm said, descending upon her. “I can see why they liked you. You didn’t care though, did you? The alcohol and pills sang you to sleep. You would have made a good Merlyn, keep Tommy together, he was never strong. Or maybe you just wanted to be a Queen. Now you’re nothing.”

All Laurel could do was back until she was against a wall. “I didn’t care about the name. I  _ loved  _ them, both of them.” 

“I’m sure you think that, Laurel. I know what you really were, your father knew what you really were.” Malcolm only stopped when he had to, only mere inches separating them, his breath heavy. “Is that how you found yourself in Bruce Wayne’s city? Another billionaire. I hope this one is smarter than the rest.” 

“Stop, Malcolm. Please don’t. Please, I’ll... _ please _ .” 

“Goodnight, birdie.” 

Laurel shot up in bed, her breath heavy, heart racing, trying to piece everything together. Nothing made sense. Her tank top clung to her body as did her hair, the sweat reminding her of all of the other nights she woke up in the same exact fashion. She shoved the covers off of her almost immediately and patted herself down. Dry. All in one piece. No blood. It was real, she was real, alive. 

“A dream.” She whispered finding it was impossible to close her eyes. She didn’t want to see their faces. 

After looking over at the clock she realized she’d only been asleep for an hour. She vaguely thought about taking something to sleep. She couldn’t, not if she wanted to stay sober. Something else she struggled with. Sometimes she just sat in that dark, empty apartment, and wondered if she should just throw it all away.

At least she would be able to sleep and feel better. She really wanted to feel better.

Once she decided that she wasn’t sleep that night she got out of bed and walked over to her closet. She grabbed her sneakers and a pair of socks as she moved from the bedroom to the living room. She didn’t bother turning on any of the lights. It was dark, bare, cold, and she preferred it that way. It wasn’t really her home. 

She didn’t have a home. 

She barely had a life.

Everything was different. A whole different world. A whole different life. A whole different way of existing. It would never be what she had before. Maybe that was a good thing. She couldn’t imagine why it would be. It was growing increasingly difficult for her to find anything good in the world. 

Running seemed to be the one thing that gave her the ability to clear her mind, or at the very least, process her thoughts. It was something that gave her that little boost she needed in order to keep herself from acting on her impulses and doing something she knew she should be doing.

Once outside the cool night air hit her and she felt free. Being in closed spaces always managed to make her feel as if she was suffocating. That thought was short as she began to run down the street and thought of the dream, no matter how hard she tried to think of anything else. 

It was just a dream. Just a dream. Nothing more. They weren’t real. She was on a whole different world. It was fine. 

It wasn’t fine.

It never was.

It’d been a long while since Tommy managed to infiltrate her dreams. She never managed to fully get over what with him. She wasn’t naive enough to think she played no part in it, and the way she handled his death. That was the one thing everyone was always wrong about. She didn’t blame everyone else, she only ever blamed herself. Tommy always did deserve better than her and the hand he got dealt. 

Sometimes she had this false hope that he was living the life he was supposed to, somewhere else, happy, finding peace. It was a much better way to think of him instead of lying dead in the cold, dark ground, soul in whatever afterlife existed. If the afterlife even existed. She didn’t know. If multiple Earths could exist...anything was possible. 

Maybe none of them really died...only moved to live out different paths on different Earths. Maybe her dad got to be with alternate versions of his daughters, his wife, finding happiness. Or maybe Laurel was just desperately grasping at straws in order to think the world wasn’t as dark as it seemed. 

The only thing she even had was being a lawyer again.

Happiness was fleeting, unable to fully grasp it, to hold it, to make it something tangible, something that stayed with her so the darkness didn’t try to break it’s way in. It was all she wanted, more than anything, the ability to feel something like happiness. Even if she couldn’t feel happiness itself. Sometimes it felt as if she spent so much of her life lost in the dark without the ability to be true in the image she put forward. It was all nothing more than an act, to people who didn’t know her well enough to see past it. 

She couldn’t blame them, couldn’t blame anyone, the only person that she could blame was herself. She was the one who made a mess of her life and she was the only one who could manage to attempt to make things right. 

It had been years since she was that close to rock bottom and almost didn’t want to bother to pick herself up off of the floor. 

The thing about healing was she was always extraordinarily bad at it. Either it didn’t happen at all and she buried herself in anything she could possibly could, or she turned to something else to heal everything for her. Heal was the wrong word,  _ mask _ , yeah, that’s a better word,  _ mask _ , mask the pain, the thoughts, pretend that none of them existed when they did. That was her normal and had been since she was a kid, almost as if she was always just a little broken, needing to find some way to become whole, to be the person everyone wanted her to be, to be the person she  _ wanted  _ to be. 

Who  _ did  _ she want to be?

Ever since she was a kid she wanted to be the good older sister that her parents were proud of. Her dad was proud, her mom seemed proud sometimes, but it was always Sara that managed to be the light of their lives. Maybe as a teenager a few passing moments came in which she was bitter about that but they faded away. Hard to be mad at someone who was dead, more than once, and instead she only let things unfold. She let her dad say those awful things and didn’t bother as her mom moved away to find something for herself that Laurel couldn’t possibly understand. Not that she bothered. The issues with her mother were only masked like everything else. 

She leaned on Oliver until he was gone. She was never stupid, she knew he was cheating on her, but he was what she had. Always what she had. The boy that made her smile and laugh when it felt like doing the impossible wasn’t going to make her happy. 

It would only be later she learned Sara and her had the same view of one another. 

Tommy held her up for so long, even when she was creating distance between the two of them. She felt bad for how she wanted him and continued to feel bad even when Oliver returned, unable to give herself fully to him, yet, knowing how deeply she loved him. Getting him killed, him protecting her when she wasn’t deserving of it, only for her to die in the end anyway. 

So often it felt as if she pushed back they would all leave her. Oliver only seemed to be the one she could push back without fearing he’d leave. He already had. He wasn’t the same man he once was and that was okay. 

True loneliness set in after Tommy died. She hadn’t really felt that before and had to learn how to be the person she was. It turned out she was a depressive drunk who had an affinity for taking whatever pills she could find while trying to keep up appearances. Even the return of her sister did so very little to make her happy. Too long had she been trying to be happy. If for nothing more than appearances. 

Picking herself off the floor was the hardest thing she’d ever done. Becoming the Black Canary was easy in contrast.  She managed to find herself to be the hero she knew she would be and learned to honor her sister. 

Dinah Laurel Lance always saving the world. 

Words she would never hear again from either Sara or Tommy. Not that they were words she needed to hear, she knew who she was, and what exactly she could be, just lost the ability to channel it. Everything about her was too different to be the Laurel she once was. Instead she ran from that image of herself, didn’t allow herself to be a hero, never bothered to be someone deserving of such a title. It was easier if she was simple Laurel. 

The middle of the night was probably the worst time to be running through Gotham, but sleeping in her bed was nothing that was going to happen. Not when the nightmares began to plague her all over again. When she was being someone else they were almost easier to forget, but when she was being more the Laurel Lance she was back in Star City...on her Earth...her life came screaming back to her. 

Her life including all of the problems and losses she faced over the years.

None of it was fair. 

She stopped trying to think the world was any kind of fair place. 

Fair wouldn’t have taken Tommy and Sara from her. She always managed to get Sara back, Oliver came back, but Tommy never did. Her father never would. No one she knew before would be someone she saw again. In a way, she knew that going into it, but there was always a piece of hope that remained inside of her. A light. Something that kept her going so the darkness didn’t fully consume her. It threatened to consume her so very often and it only made her want to drink more.

She had so little and to lose what little she did have seemed to be something that was only going to spiral her into something closer to death. There wasn’t a third chance. Distractions came easier. 

Running. Spending time in the gym. Being a lawyer. 

Being a lawyer was something she once lived for, something that was managing to bring her something she was without, but something was still missing. Something was always missing, a piece, she couldn’t explain. 

Being thrust into a different world could account for it. It bothered her that she didn’t know, that she wasn’t one hundred percent confident on the answer, only that things were new, and she was still trying to make sense of it. She ran harder, harder and longer, losing herself completely in her thoughts, the drive that existed within her when she didn’t really know it would exist at all.

She came to a stop only when she realized she’d manage to stray so far from her apartment. Without really thinking much of it she climbed the building and sat on the edge, overlooking the city.

Gotham wasn’t like Star City. She’s supposed it was a good thing they weren’t the same, probably not a good thing Gotham was worse. What was that saying given all of the stuff they fought against before she died? She wondered if they ever managed to stop Damien or what happened to Malcolm.

The thought of Malcolm made her blood boil. That was new. A feeling that made her hold onto the edge of the building, knuckles white, taking over until she swallowed. 

The slight noise behind her startled her, wobbling before he was reaching out for her, but she managed to steady herself on her own.  “You just pop out of nowhere.” 

“That’s the idea.” Bruce replied only looking at her briefly. 

Laurel shook her head and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead he focused herself back out at the city before her. 

“What are you doing out here?”

“Thinking about jumping.” Her tone was dry. “Ruined my plan.”

“Is that a joke?”

“I was running.” She shrugged, crossing her arms in front of her chest.. “Looking for answers I’ll never get.”

“She talks back occasionally.”

Of course Gotham would be a woman. They were resilient. You could beat down on women over and over again. They always managed to pick themselves back up. Regardless of anything, even if they had no help. “You know her better than I do.”

“No discrimination.” 

“Yeah.” Laurel didn’t really know what it was about Bruce that made her feel like she could talk to him and he wasn’t going to betray any of her secrets. Probably because he had a pretty big secret of his own, something to lose, a lot to lose. “You know when I first tried to be the Black Canary they all thought it was a bad idea. Oliver was so mad. He said I was an addict chasing a high.”

“He sounds lovely.”

She didn’t miss the judgment. “Sometimes I think he was just trying to protect me, he did it with everyone, and other times I just think he couldn’t stand not being in control of every little thing. Something different after the island. I found my way and then it was over. So, maybe he was right, maybe they were all right. All I have is a law degree. I don’t belong out here.”

Laurel felt Bruce next to her before she even heard him move. He was tall, domineering, dark, and if she didn’t know who the man under the mask was she’d probably be terrified. He helped her and he wasn’t going to hurt her. She was okay. 

“Your addiction doesn’t define who you are and it doesn’t make you lesser than anyone. If Oliver couldn’t see that then, if  _ anyone  _ can’t see that, then they’re not worth the moment. You can put on a mask for whatever reason you want, no reason is better than another.” 

“I got murdered.”

“You’re alive now.”

“I’ll get you your information.” She said as she brushed past him as she suddenly felt the need to bolt. It was like he had a counter for everything. Different from what she experienced before. “You know,” she started, turning her head to see him, “if I was going to get a cool power it could have been flying. This is a city worth seeing.” 

Before she turned around to climb down the side of the building she swore there was a tiny little smile on his face. It was gone before she could check again. Her face flat once she turned from his view, getting rid of an emotion she put forth to seem normal, slipping into herself. Something was wrong and different. She knew it. She could feel it in her bones. 

Laurel had no interest in beings someone's problem. She faced a lot of darkness on her own and could certainly do as much again. 

Brand new city. Same old Laurel.

* * *

Despite taking the job at the District Attorney’s office she made time for teaching the training class at the gym. The deeper she got into the Gotham life it was glaringly obvious that the city was not something that anyone should have to suffer in alone. They needed to know how to defend themselves. Her dad made her take those very classes and they had proven to be quite useful time and time again.

Especially when she moved into her vigilante lifestyle.

Not that she thought most of them were ever going to go into fighting street crime, or at least she hoped they wouldn’t. It wasn’t a bad thing, not by any means, she was proud of her time as Black Canary, it was just the risks were great and she paid the ultimate price. She was alive, that much Bruce was right about, but at what cost?

Everyone she knew thought she was dead and she had her work, her time in the gym, the few run ins with Bruce, apparently being something of an informant of his at the moment. She didn’t mind, but she wasn’t naive enough to think that job hadn’t essentially fallen into her lap because of him.

And because people didn’t want to keep dying in that position. She didn’t mind working at a high risk job.

The last of the girls left for the night and she found herself in the corner, gloves on, beating against the bag. It was visions of Malcolm that haunted her, visions of Damien, of all the times she was down, losing, out of her element. She tried her best to not think of the haunted visions of her father and sister disapproving, but it didn’t work.

None of it worked.

They haunted and haunted until she punched the bag so hard it came crashed against the wall, swinging back and it hitting her right in the stomach. She only stumbled a little before deciding to call it a night. Even if she wanted to stay the throbbing pain in her stomach made her feel sick.

She had been pushing everything so far down that she didn’t think of anything, only for it to all rise within anger in her. 

Anger was a feeling she hadn’t been friends with in a long time.

Shaking her head she found herself at home and getting ready for the evening she decided she didn’t really want to go to. It was different than Star city, where she knew people, knew circles, had enough of a presence to make a night worth it.

Still, she knew the importance of making her presence and befriending someone who was running for mayor, while the current mayor was missing. Another trying to take his place. The calmness of Gotham proved how normal it was.

The only thing she could think as she stepped in the ballroom was that there was a case she could be working on. An hour, she told herself. She would spare an hour, make her presence known, then find herself back in her apartment. She didn’t want to waste all of the effort she put into getting read. Her hair was curled, cascading down, the navy dress was fitted, shoulders cut out, something professional, something that made her feel good. 

Less anger.

If only for the moment. 

“ADA Lance.”

Laurel turned at the sound of her name, plastering a forced smile on her face. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“I hope you’re fitting in well.”

“I am.” She swallowed, trying to seem more comfortable than she was. From what she heard about the Commissioner was that he was one of the true good guys in Gotham.. “Any luck on finding the mayor?”

“We’re working on it.” 

“Dad,” a soft voice came from behind, “are you terrorizing her?” 

“He’s saving me from having to mingle with other people I don’t know.” Laurel was slightly surprised to see the redhead in a wheelchair only for the detail to disappear as quickly as it came. “Far worse company.”

“I’ll leave you two.” He spoke, offering his daughter a smile. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Lance.”

Laurel smiled at the Commissioner before turning to the girl. “Laurel Lance.”

“Barbara Gordon.” She offered her hand, to which Laurel shook.

“It’s nice to meet you.” She smiled, one that felt as forced as the others. It was good to make friends, or at the very least acquaintances. “Your dad’s the commissioner? That’s impressive.”

“Sorry, I’m late, Babs. I just couldn’t get through…” he spoke, coming over and leaning down to kiss Barbara. 

“Dick, this is Laurel.”

“Dick Grayson.” 

When he held out his hand for her to shake she did, looking between them. They looked happy, if the way Dick was looking at her was any indication. “I should...mingle.” She insisted as the silence hung in the air. There was no interest in interrupting their evening, not that a political event was ever all that exciting. 

“No stay.” Barbara insisted in a tone that no one could deny. 

“How’d you two meet?”

Barbara and Dick looked at each other, speaking something of a secret language. “Small town.”

“I know all about that.” Laurel did happen to think there was something she was missing. 

“Are you seeing anyone?” Barbara asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m committed to the work.” In addition to be from another Earth, recently brought back from the dead, and struggled to ever find peace her in mind. No one really needed to deal with that. It didn’t help she never really moved on after Tommy or Oliver. 

“Are you terrorizing the ADA?”

“She has a name Bruce.” Barbara chastised with a smile.

Dick raised his hands in a defensive position. “Babs was already talking to her when I got here.”

Barbara elbowed him near immediately. 

He clutched his side. “Ow.”

“Oh, that didn’t hurt.” Barbara rolled her eyes.

Laurel just watched the little scene before her and looked over to Bruce. She’d seen parts of him. When he was Batman in the streets of Gotham, when he was making sure she was alright as Batman unmasked, when he instilling confidence in her Oliver never did. The moment when they were walking and eating ice cream like they were two completely normal people having a completely normal conversation she wondered if he was like that with everyone. It was standing there, talking to Dick and Barbara, that she wondered if that was the man he was in his day to day life. He seemed calm, almost, on edge, if she had to guess, but talking to them he seemed...happy? Maybe it was a mask. She knew all about those lately but he clearly knew them well enough that the banter that went back and forth was normal. 

“Why don’t you two go talk to Jim?”

Dick’s face immediately fell and Laurel had to bite back a smile.  

“He’ll be happy to see you.” Barbara tried to assure him.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

In the end, the pair did move towards where Jim Gordon was standing, talking to someone Laurel didn’t know. She only lingered for a moment before she turned to look at Bruce. He was definitely very Bruce Wayne in that moment. His suit was clearly expensive, navy, blending together and fitting him perfectly. Laurel admired it. “You’re everywhere.” 

Bruce smiled,  _ barely _ . “Do you mind?” 

“Not at all.”

“How’s the job?”

Laurel was actually grateful when he spoke about her work. She didn’t have the mind for anything else. “My first case is next week but I’m going to guess you already knew that.”

“I might have.”

“Smoking gun. Nice long stay at Blackgate.” 

“Here.” Bruce handed her a flute from one of the trays that the waiter brought by.

Laurel looked over at him, skeptical.

“It’s ginger ale.” He assured. “I have my ways.”

She supposed if anyone was going to find her ginger ale it was going to be the billionaire. Not that it stopped Laurel from sniffing it, and eventually taking a sip. “Bad ginger ale.” She scrunched her face. No more of that.. “Is he your son? ...Dick.” When he looked at her with the wordless question she continued, “I can google.” 

“I adopted him after his parents died. He’s old enough to be on his own now and he prefers it that way.”

“Now if only the papers wrote about that.”

“Hardly a good story.”

“Billionaire saves orphan from foster care doesn’t sell that many papers, does it?” 

“Do you want to dance?” Bruce asked as he took the flute of ginger ale from her and placed his own down on the table nearby. 

While she was taken by surprise she didn’t mind the idea. “Yeah.”

Bruce grabbed her hand and let her to the middle of the floor. It was just them for the moment and the song was soft in the background, slow. He pulled her close and she looked up at him. Even in heels she found herself to be inches shorter than him. She allowed them to sway for a few moments, trying to shut off her mind, hoping he didn’t try and make smalltalk. He didn’t.  _ Work _ . Work was a good topic.

“I didn’t find anything out. Parking ticket, worked closely with Harvey Dent, who is now in Arkham.” She felt Bruce stiffen. “You knew that.”

“We were friends.” Bruce dismissed. “You should be careful.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’m sure you can.” He was soft, genuine in his words. 

Not that Laurel believed he believed she could truly take care of herself. Pretending to believe her was enough for the moment. “So this is really just a simple mayor event?”

“Maybe.”

“You remind me of Ollie.”

Bruce made eye contact with her for the first time since he asked her dance. “I remind you of your former boyfriend who from what you’ve told me is less than stellar.”

“Broody, quiet, secretive, playboy, billionaire who eats up people in the middle of the night.”

“I wouldn’t call it brooding.”

Laurel raised her eyebrow. “What would call it?”

“Selective caring.” Bruce answered after a moment. 

It only caused Laurel to roll her eyes.

“You look nice.” He shifted the conversation once more, allowing his eyes to scan her as much as they could with how they only seemed to be growing closer. “I know you don’t want to be here. Neither do I.”

It was such a simple compliment but one she enjoyed, even daring to flush a little. “Then why are you? I’m sure Bruce Wayne could come up with an excuse.”

“Why are you?”

“I have a lot to prove, friends to make. It’s much easier if you’re on friendly terms with those in power.”

“You’ll do good.”

“I’m a good lawyer.” That much Laurel was absolutely certain of. “But my boss isn’t favorable to me, I’m new to Gotham, and I can feel people watching us.” 

“They do that.” 

“Usually a billionaire boyfriend has to die for that to happen.” 

“Dancing is less painful.” 

It was less painful, that much she would agree on. “Thanks for the dance, Bruce.”

* * *

Mingling had always been Laurel’s strong suit. She remembered being a little girl and going to various events her mother and father were invited to. She always had a smile on and told stories, informed them of the lawyer she was going to be, the cop her father forbid her from being. Then with Oliver they were always at something or another. Usually he was off doing things she still didn’t like to think about while she made the good impression.

It all proved to be quite useful as she moved into adulthood. Working in a public office proved to be just as much about making the right friends in the right social setting as it did about her actual work.

As the night proceeded on Laurel did as she always did. Made small talk with people who she would do her best to remember their name but would ultimately fail, shook hands with all of the right people, and made sense of everything. 

“So, Bruce Wayne?”

“Cindy.” Laurel greeted as the other girl sat down at the table she was at. “What about Bruce?”

“You and him. He wrote your recommendation, he stopped by the office last week, you were talking to his kid, and you shared a dance with him.” She only stopped the rambling to take a breath. “And someone told me you were in metropolis with him.” 

“Are you stalking me?”

“So it is true?” She perked up then. “I didn’t believe it because it was a friend of a friend who knew this girl. Anyway,” she waved it off, “not important. I read the papers, obviously. I know you were all dead and not dead, and I don’t know it doesn’t really make that much sense to me, but you’re all troubled and whatever now. My point is Oliver is dead and wow, I’m sorry is that too harsh?”

“It’s fine.” Laurel knew her Oliver wasn’t dead and that she’d probably have to mold herself to fit in the life of the girl she was taking. 

“You’re alive and became a lawyer. Please, tell me you’ve moved on. You can’t be hung up on an old boyfriend.”

“I’m not hung up on him. It’s been over for a very long time.” Only part of that was true. She wasn’t hung up on him, she knew nothing was ever going to happen between the two of them, but he was always there. A huge part of her life that made everything seem more cloudy than it needed to be. They were on different worlds and he had Felicity. None of it mattered, not anymore. Her dream came back to her mind. Maybe her subconscious was right. She couldn’t think about it. 

“I hear Bruce is only good for a night, but you’re too pretty to be alone.”

“If you’re going to hit on me you could use better lines.”

“Ha, funny I don’t date co workers and I like blondes,  _ which  _ speaking of, this guy over there is calling my name.”

Laurel didn’t bother to stop the laugh. Partly because Cindy was just someone amusing her, but mostly because she was blonde. Oliver was alive, and she was only a shadow of the person over there. “Have fun.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt.” Barbara said near immediately as she came to sit next to her. 

“You weren’t.” Laurel dismissed, “She was trying to set me up, I think. So unless you’re going to do that.”

“I don’t wish Bruce on anyone.”

“ _ Ouch _ . How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Her face screamed trying to keep an innocent. 

Laurel just raised her eyebrow at that one. “You’re dating Dick.” 

“He’s been through a lot.  _ Bruce _ ,” she clarified, “He’s not a bad guy, one of the best ones, but he’s complicated.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” She instantly managed to think that the whole thing was weird. If there was something she was missing. That’s how everything felt recently. 

“You and Bruce seem to get along well.” Was all she said.

“He’s nice. I’ve known his type.” Laurel shrugged as she picked up a strawberry from the table, mostly to distract herself from the vulnerable feeling setting in. “Dick is looking over here.”

“He can wait.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Sometimes it feels like a lifetime.” Barbara smiled as she looked over at him. “Here’s my number. We should have lunch. You need a friend and so do I.” 

“Thanks.” Laurel smiled as Barbara left. 

It took her all of five minutes to decide she was at the end of her tolerance for being there. Cindy and Barbara were both nice but she still didn’t feel enough like her herself to make it a night worth sticking out. Maybe she could actually get some sleep. If not there was always work to do.

She stood and looked around before moving towards the door, only to be stopped by the very man who invited her to the event. 

“Can you spare a minute for a dance?” 

“I’m popular tonight.” Laurel smiled and knew there was no way she was going to be able to deny him. 

“I hope I can count on your vote.” Lincoln suggested quietly, holding onto her. 

“Given the current Mayor is missing you’re the only one running.”

A soft smiled appeared across his lips. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Do you expect to charm me into a vote?” That never did work on her and wasn’t going to work then either.

“I think  _ Bruce Wayne  _ has stolen all the charm for himself.”

Laurel began to wonder if there was something special about him that everyone was focused on him. Outside of his wealth. “So, is this dance really about him?”

“No.”

Laurel didn’t believe that for one second. “What is it about?”

“I’m being a good host.” His words were whispered. “A good future Mayor.” 

The song came to an end just as one of the waiters walked by, Lincoln pulling a flute of champagne off of the tray, handing it to her. “I don’t drink.”

“You can make an exception tonight.”

Laurel held the glass and forced a smile. An annoyance rose in her that he couldn’t accept his answer, but she was in no position to change anything. Certainly not as her eyes glanced down at the alcohol. It called to her in a way it would really only call to an addict. 

“The District Attorney’s office is rather impressed with you.” He complimented as he didn’t take his glance off of her. 

Laurel gave something of a shrug. “I’m just doing my job.”

“Beautiful and humble.”

“You’re full of compliments.” Laurel really should have left when she had the chance, finding it harder and harder to swallow how irritated she was. Nothing new, not when it came to politicians. Frankly, she was far more interested in the glass in her hand. She knew better, she knew she shouldn’t drink it, knew she shouldn’t have even been holding it. She was, she was looking at it, ignoring the way he went off on some political speech about making Gotham a better place. 

“You should join me for lunch, both of you.” 

“What?” When she looked up she noticed Bruce had joined them. How long had she been debating whether or not to drink it. Her eyes went immediately to Bruce, watching the way he watched her. He really seemed to be everywhere. “Of course, sorry. Wouldn’t you prefer to discuss with the DA?”

“I’m afraid she doesn’t like me very much.”

“Next week.” Bruce confirmed offering a fake smile of his own.

Laurel nodded. “I’ll be there.”

“Great.” Lincoln smiled between the two of them. He shook Bruce’s hand and brushed past her on purpose. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

Laurel watched for a moment before her eyes went down to the pure temptation in her hand. She noticed the way Bruce stepped closer, her personal space invaded, but didn’t dare to move. “You’re like my little guardian. Everywhere, all the time, invading my personal space, watching, waiting. I don’t really get it.” 

“Are you going to drink that?”

“Yeah...no, maybe, I shouldn’t, but I want to. I  _ really  _ want to.”

“I can take it for you.”

“What do you think of him?” She ignored Bruce’s offer. 

“I think he wants to make the right friends.”

She didn’t hide the scoff at that. “And that’s us?”

“Yes.”

“Are we even friends? You don’t seem like the kind to have friends.” Laurel looked up at him. “Barbara says you’re complicated.”

“Everyone needs someone.”

“What self help book did you get that from?”

“ _ Life _ .” His voice was rougher than usual as he answered.

“I’m sorry not usually such a bitch.” 

“I wouldn’t phrase it that way.”

“It’s okay. I did.” Laurel handed him the drink after thinking about it for too long. “I should go.” 

“Goodnight, Laurel.”

“Goodnight, Bruce.”

* * *

 

Less and less sleep seemed to be Laurel’s new reality as the dreams continued. She was dreaming of everyone she loved, the horrible things they said, lying awake and unable to do anything. She ran more than ever. Some nights she would see Batman and Robin, watching from the street as the two of them worked together. 

A team.

She didn’t have that anymore.

Instead of worrying about it she threw herself into her work, making sure that her first case in Gotham was one in which she got a guilty verdict. She had a smoking gun but the paranoia that it would all go down was something that also kept her awake at night. 

In the end, the trial went by quickly and she got her guilty verdict. 

She still wasn’t happy. 

She really wanted to be better than she was, but she wasn’t. Something was off. Something she couldn’t explain, because she wouldn’t think about it.

Pushing down her problems was not a lesson she would ever learn.

Instead she stood in front of the mirror in her bedroom and wondered what being the Black Canary meant anymore. Gotham had Batman, sometimes Nightwing from the tales she heard, Robin from what she’d seen with her own eyes. Bruce had a way about him, trying to make her believe in herself. even if he’d all but left her alone since the night of the event. 

She had confidence before. Before she knew she was rough in areas but she knew she could be better,  _ solid _ , she was part of the team. 

When she died she realized she wasn’t anything she thought she was.

But she had more training, kept up her strength, her weights, taught the girls, and something about it just called to her.

She was good and strong, she  _ was  _ the Black Canary.

No one could take that from her. 

The black didn’t feel right anymore and she certainly didn’t want to be her old self. It was Gotham, new, different, she was new. different. The fitted bodice was navy, gold line around the edges, stopping at the tops of her thighs, lines making her look slimmer. She didn’t need it but she liked it, like the way she had more freedom than the leather pants with the buckles gave her. 

She loved her old costume but it was different.

The boots were steady, the fishnets something stupid but something to tie her to a happy memory of her old life, the whole thing brought together by the jacket Bruce gifted her. Pieces of before and after.

Laurel felt uneasy as she actually went into the city of Gotham. She didn’t feel like she belonged there and in so many ways she didn’t. None of it was the place that she was supposed to be at. Instead she was a visitor. 

She put on the fake confidence well, held her head high, move with a smile, looking at the world. 

Now or never. 

But when she came to it was Bruce who was yanking her arm. “Stop.” He demanded. “What are you doing?”

Laurel looked up at him, looked at the bloody face of the person barely breathing, noticed the way her hands were bloody, aching, all of her ached, his death grip on her arm did little to help. She softened near immediately, trying to slow her breathing, and hardly bothered to pull from him.  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“Robin take care of this.” Bruce said. “You’re coming with me.”

“The…”

“He’ll take care of it.”

Laurel could feel the disapproval coming off of him in waves as she followed behind him, rubbing her arm where his hand held her, turning to look at the criminal behind her. She didn’t really know she was capable of that kind of violence. Even being in the forest, learning under assassins, she shook her head. She’d been shoving the memories down so deep. No, no, there was no thinking of any of that.

“How did you come back to life?” Bruce questioned as he pulled his mask and cape off.

“I woke up and…”

“No,” he stepped so he was in front of her, “you know. Not when you woke up...how you came back to life.”

“It couldn’t have been the Lazarus Pit if that’s what you’re asking.” She glanced up at him from where she sat on the table he’d led her to.

“You sound sure.”

“Nyssa destroyed it.”

“Nyssa al ghul.” Bruce spoke talking to himself more than her, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What?”

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened when you woke.”

“I woke up screaming, the canary cry, until someone took me down.” Laurel spoke softly. “But…”

“Something is blocking you.” Bruce finished for her. “What don’t you want to remember?”

“I’m telling you what happened.” Her tone was harsh but to his credit he didn’t move. “I was stabbed, I died, I woke up.”

“Do you remember dying?”

“No.” That much she knew she was blocking out but it was not something she wanted to remember. 

“Can I see your scar?”

Laurel took off her jacket and slowly unzipped the back of her suit. Silently thankful that she decided to wear some kind of bra underneath it. Oddly enough as she tugged the suit from her body until her scar was exposed she didn’t feel as vulnerable as she probably should have. She knew he was focused on something else other than her mental state. Part of her thought it was selfish to think that he was worried about her at all, something that was in her own mind, not reality. Bruce studied her, focusing completely, grazing his fingertips against her scar, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Do you have any other scars?”

“Not anymore.”

“You were put in a lazarus pit. More than one exists, I just wasn’t sure, and  _ this _ ,” he ran his finger along her scar, “you’ve been marked by the League of Assassins.”

“What?” She half thought Bruce was joking. He didn’t seem to joke much.

“It seems they did not anticipate the intervention.”

“But why?”

“If I know Talia and I do, my guess was she wanted to use you against someone.”

“And the Talia of this Earth?”

“She’d target me.” The words came quietly, Laurel not missing the flash of something written all over his face. “Nothing suggests she is aware of the significance of your existence.” 

“Have you ever been in the lazarus pit?”

“No.”

“Back home, you developed bloodlust after being in the lazarus pit.” That was the very last thing she needed to deal with. It was something that terrified her, only made so much sense. 

“Bloodlust?”

“You have to kill who killed you, or kill people to sustain it.”

“That’s why you were so violent.”

“I must have murdered someone, it would have hit sooner.” Right? Right. It was the only logical explanation she could come up with. Only none of it was logical, nothing was, nothing continued to be. It was all a mess and she just needed it to not be.

“One action does not define you.”

“Taking a life doesn’t define you?” Laurel questioned, looking up at him with disbelief.

“You aren’t using logic. You’re making an assumption based on something you have thought to happen. No signs indicate you’re a murderer.” 

“Do you have a drink?”

Bruce watched her with that stern look on his face. “I’m not giving you a drink.”

“I have work to do.” 

“Have you been sleeping?”

“Yes.” A lie that came all too easily as she pushed him away to have some personal space. She pulled up her suit and rezipped herself. She needed to go home. Not being stuck there with the sound of the running water that only served to make her far more annoyed than she needed to be.

“Are you lying?”

“Yes.”

“Nightmares?”

She felt like a damn case study. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not your problem.” 

“You’re not dying in my city.”

“I’m not going back out there.” There, problem solved. “I’m going to be a lawyer. I was never supposed to be out there.”

“Fate sys otherwise.”

“I died.”

“So you’ve said.”

“No, it’s like I just...realized. I...died.” Laurel closed her eyes, pushing back every emotion that hit her seemingly out of nowhere. Only it wasn’t nowhere. She’d been pushing everything so far down but she couldn’t push any further. She just couldn’t. She wanted to. Oh, how she wanted to. She didn’t want to be the girl standing in front of him but she was. That was nothing she could change. “Someone killed me. Now I’m here and I just...I don’t wanna be here. I don’t want to be anywhere. I should be dead. I need to be dead. I don’t think I can do this.”

Bruce moved back in order to give her some space. “You don’t have to be anything you aren’t ready for. Your death isn’t your fault. It’s at the hands of the person who killed you.”

“I couldn’t have been very good if I was killed.”

“That’s not true.” His eyes flickered over to the Robin suit enclosed. “Death can find anyone. We are not immune.” 

“I caused everyone so much pain by doing something I shouldn’t have been.”

“None of this is selfish”

“So you do this as a big, selfless act. You get nothing out of it? You’re just a billionaire with a heart.” The disbelief came with a scoff, feeling the way displeasure filled her, anger maybe, something familiar yet unfamiliar. Wanting to pick a fight him. She wanted it. She wanted him to lose his temper, to push back at her, to fight her, so she could...no. no, that wasn’t fair. Those thoughts weren’t fair. They weren’t her. Laurel could be called a lot of things but killer was not one. 

“What was Oliver Queen?” 

“He was someone who tried.” 

“That’s all you can do.” Bruce had instantly lost the tone from the way Oliver’s name came from him, softening almost. “You try and it’s never enough, but you do it anyway.”

“I just wanted the world to be fair for five minutes. Just five minutes. Five minutes where I win. I never get to win and that’s selfish, it’s so selfish I  _ know  _ that. But this world has never been fair.” Laurel found it harder and harder to hold herself together. She created more distance between the two, as much as she could manage without running into anything. The place was huge but it felt so small. 

Bruce shook his head. “It’s not fair, no.”

“What’s the point? What’s the point to this? Why do we even bother?” 

“It’s bigger than just us.”

“I did everything right and I always lost.  _ Always _ .” She began, her voice growing increasingly unsteady, holding back the tears, the sadness, the anger, the feelings that threatened to undo her.  “I was the good daughter and the good sister and the good girlfriend and they all died, or they all left. I was the whore and I was the addict and I was the person who drowned at the expense of everyone else and I lost. This isn’t winning, Bruce. Being murdered by someone because I was leverage to keep some men in line is not winning.” If she had to lose she could have been a hero, not collateral damage. That’s all she ever was, someone hit in the crossfire,  because of decisions other people made.

“I have a power I can’t control and I can’t even hold myself up. This isn’t winning. It’s losing. I lost. I can’t even find myself in this because I don’t know who I am. What I am. I don’t want to exist anymore.” The tears were threatening to fall then and all she could think was she needed to breath. It grew harder to do just that, to not feel as if the world was crashing down on her. When she looked at him he seemed so together and yet, so pained. Broken. 

“You know, I wake up and I think what’s the point? And I go to that job and I think what’s the point? And I go to the gym and I think what’s the point? And I know, I  _ really  _ know what I do is important, I know the world needs people who are willing to prosecute people who won’t take bribes and are not afraid, that those little girls will be better off from what I can teach them, that you flying around like a crazed bat is important. But…” her words were getting the better of her, hiccuping them out, turning into a mess if she ever knew she was won. She couldn’t even yell or fight, she couldn’t do anything but stand there, allow the words to spiral from her, to get them out, to anyone, anyone who would listen. No one ever listened to her before. Not when she had held everyone up so often that they thought she would be fine. Then she wasn’t fine and they didn’t care. They were too focused on themselves and how much of a mess she was. They left and she was left there. Drowning. 

She was drowning all over again. Unable to cope. Unable to do anything like the Laurel she knew herself to be. She was weak. So weak. It probably should have made her feel worse than it did. She succumbed to everything and she really, really wished she had a drink. She  _ needed  _ a drink. “I just...can’t. This isn’t my world. This isn’t my home. I don’t belong here. I’m living a dead girl’s life, she’s me but she’s not. She doesn’t know that Oliver was cheating on her with any girl he could, she didn’t know it was her own  _ sister _ . Who does that? Who sleeps with their girlfriends sister? What sister does that? What kind of girl takes a guy back after he got that very sister killed? That’s so  _ messed  _ up. Maybe she got a better deal and none of that happened. Maybe Oliver loved her, maybe Sara loved her, maybe they didn’t all die. Maybe Tommy...Maybe it was happy, maybe she was happy.” Her words came out in a near endless string, finding herself holding onto the edge of his desk to keep herself steady, from collapsing, from letting it all just consume her.

“Laurel, you need to breath.”

To his credit he didn’t move. Just let her be. Let her continued, closing her eyes, swallowing, trying her best to catch her breath. “I saved my sister, I brought her back to life, I got her soul back, and I get killed for it, I got my father killed for it. That’s on no one but me. It’s all me. No one else. He’s dead and I’m here, and my sister thinks I’m dead, Oliver, Thea, Felicity, they all think I’m dead and for what? Because I just couldn’t stand the world being unfair.” She didn’t bother to hold back the sobs them, to let the mascara run, to be so consumed inside of herself that nothing else seemed to matter.

Bruce moved to where Laurel was, keeping enough distance, but still being there. He squatted, bracing his arm on the table, looking up at her. “Don’t fault yourself for doing what you thought was right.” 

His words went over her head and she just shook her head. None of it made any sense. It never did. Her life was a never ending cycle of nothing ever making much sense at all. She turned to look at Bruce, vision cloudy from the tears, knuckles white from how long tightly she held on. “Why did they save me?  _ Why _ ? Why did they think I should be saved when I couldn’t stop myself from getting killed? And even as I stand here I just wanna kill you and I don’t wanna be a killer.” She nearly felt like she was going to be sick. “But I can’t take any more of the world just being unfair, beating down, and not letting up. Maybe I’m not strong. That’s fine. I’m tired. I’m just so tired. If the universe wanted me dead they should have just done it.” The omission came out slowly, as if there was a breakthrough she found, something she needed to admit and something she finally did. Not that it calmed her down much. A little, enough for her to find some semblance of a breath, but everything about her was a mess. She let go of the table and wiped her tears away.

“I was eight when my parents were shot and killed in front of me.” He stood up slowly and found himself closer to her. “That suit,” he began, waiting until they were both looking at it,“It belongs to Jason. He was,” Bruce paused, swallowing, finding a strength, “he was like my son, I loved him, and he died. I should have stopped it, I should have stopped my parents from being murdered, but I didn’t. You’re not as alone as you might think.”

“I’m sorry. For this,  _ me _ , your parents, jason.” She ran her hands over her face and turned until she was facing him. “Why did you tell me that?”

“It felt okay.” He whispered, “You’re not alone.”

“Yes, I am.” She whispered looking up at him, swallowing, refusing to cry more. “I’ve been alone for a very long time. I’ve dealt with grief on my own, I got myself clean on my own, I made myself a hero on my own.” 

“Let me help you with the bloodlust.”

“I’m fine.”

Bruce found his gaze to be more stern. “I’m not asking.” 

“Do you think it was an accident that we met?” She asked almost afraid of the answer. 

“Nothing associated Ra’s Al Ghul is an accident.”

“No, I guess not.” She paused for a moment, glancing down, “Nyssa was um...”

“I know what it’s like to care for an Al Ghul,” he interrupted, “but I can’t promise you that your Nyssa is the one here.”

“I know.”

“In fact, I can guarantee she’s not.”

“I know.” Laurel suddenly felt too intense. “I should go. I’ve wasted your night.” Suddenly it hit her house she’d been and how she needed to be someone else, somewhere else.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred greeted as he walked down the stairs, “you have company and neglected to inform me. I am utterly shocked.”

“I was just leaving.” She didn’t really want to be a bother more than she already was. 

“You should stay.” Bruce suggested.

Laurel knew that her little outburst wasn’t going to get her leave without any question, and she wasn’t going to bother to fight him on it either. Everything about her was entirely unsteady and part of her didn’t even trust herself just left alone in the darkness of her mind.

“Bruce, you shouldn’t leave your robins lying around.” 

The feminine voice caught her and she turned her head to see... _ Wonder Woman _ . That was surreal. Laurel had been immersed in the world of vigilantes but sometimes, it felt as if it all couldn’t exist...as if they were myths. 

Bruce looked over at Diana. “When did you get back?” 

“Today.” She replied, walking closer to where they were all standing, the young Robin pulling off his mask and cape. “Dead end.”

“Hmm.” 

“Miss Prince,” Alfred began, “will you be staying?”

“No, I need to talk to Bruce. Thank you, Alfred.” 

“You’re the Black Canary.” Tim informed with an eagerness as he walked so he was standing in front of her.

“And how do you know that?” Laurel looked over at Bruce as she asked the question. He only turned to focus on the computers.

“He keeps files.” Diana happily informed her. “Diana.” She offered her hand out.

“Laurel.” She shook her hand. “Freely give out your identity?”

“As do you.” Diana paused. “You possess a sonic scream?”

“Is there anyone in this room who doesn’t know anything about me?”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Lance.” Alfred gave her a smile before walking over to Bruce, whispering between the two men vaguely heard within the room.

“Perhaps you can show me one day.” 

Diana’s voice pulled Laurel’s attention back to her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t hurt her.” Tim interrupted with a shrug.

“He’s right.” Her smile was soft, kind, total opposite of the energy that radiated off of her. 

Laurel noticed out of the corner of her eye how Alfred disappeared up the stairs. 

“Bruce, can I?” Diana was next to steal his attention. 

“That’s code for go away.” Tim said and walked off towards the stairs. “Come on. Alfred makes the best post patrol snack.”

Laurel only went at Bruce’s nod, not really wanting to force herself into something she wasn’t supposed to be in, walking past Jason’s suit. “Did you know him?” 

“No.” Tim shook his head as he all but ran up the stairs. 

Laurel followed him up the stairs and into the house. Glass. A lot of glass. She didn’t expect that much and there was something cold about it. Fitting, almost. The view was nice, from what she could see, it being rather dark. She walked until she was met with the small table, looking down and noticing some of her things. “Do I wanna know?”

“Probably not.” Tim plopped down into the chair.

She gently took a seat and grabbed her phone which was set on top of some of her case files. The bag next to the table was from her closet and it took her all of five seconds to figure out why. She didn’t scowl at Alfred, though she had half a mind to. Instead she simply sat there and pretended to seem busy on her phone. 

Until Bruce showed up, free of his bat suit. 

“Why have you kidnapped me?” She stood, demanding an answer, barely waiting for him to come to a stop.

His reply was calm, “You’re not kidnapped.”

Alfred came from the kitchen and set some food on the table. “Thank you.” She smiled, narrowing her gaze at she looked at Bruce, arms crossed in front of her. “I have work and a meeting.”

“Bruce got himself in trouble.” Tim mused as he wasted no time in eating. 

“Tim.” He scowled at him.

“He’s not wrong.” She was so irritated she could barely stand it. As it turned out some things about some men never changed. 

“You’re not kidnapped. It’s for one night since you almost beat a guy to death on the street.” 

Laurel raised her eyebrow. “You do this with everyone?”

Suddenly Tim stood,  “I have to go before my dad wonders where I am.”

“I’ll drive you.”Alfred continued. “I believe these two have much to discuss.”

“I can...okay, I’ll go. Night Bruce. Goodnight, Laurel.”

“It was nice to meet you.” Even if she did feel as if their tension was the one thing that caused him to leave. The last thing she wanted but she would put that one on Bruce for not even daring to ask her. 

“Maybe this one can you make you honest.” Alfred’s words barely heard, yet heard all the same, not lost on Bruce as he rolled his eyes.

Laurel took her seat at the table and remained silent. Mostly she was waiting to see if he would say something first. He didn’t. He took a seat and took a sip of the water before him. She couldn’t tell if she was truly angry at him or if the forces inside of her were making her more angry. Only she never much accepted it with Ollie, hated the way he tried to dictate what she could and couldn’t do, often telling him to screw himself. 

Had half a mind to tell Bruce the same thing. 

“I hate controlling men, especially when they are billionaires who dress up in the middle of the night and beat people up. You’re not God.” She was calm as she said the words but still could feel a boiling inside of her. 

“You’re burning up and you’re clutching onto the table so tight your knuckles are white, just like you did downstairs. If something is going to happen you should be in a place where you aren't going to bring a whole building down.” Now Bruce happened to be the true definition of calm, compared to Laurel doing her best but letting everything slip from her.

“Your house is made of glass.”

“I can replace it.”

She finally let go of the table and looked down as her hands pinked back up once the blood moved through her. “I have a meeting with Lois Lane tomorrow.”

“Lois Lane?”

“Yep.”

“What happened to Vicki Vale?”

Laurel shrugged, picking at the food. “I haven’t called her back.”

“Lois doesn’t do fluff pieces.”

“You know her.” That one was entirely unexpected.

Bruce looked up at her. “I own the Daily Planet.”

“You know the names of all your employees? You know what? I don’t want to know.” She shook her head. “I like to think I’m more than a fluff piece but it’s not about me. It’s about a case I’m working on.”

“ADA’s sit down with reporters?”

“My boss recommended it.” At this point Laurel was more than happy to play by the rules. “She hates you.”

“Yes.”

“Does Lois Lane hate you?”

“I have not slept with her.”

“I didn’t ask.” And she didn’t ask anything else regarding it. If she had to guess it would be a reporter and Batman type relationship, but giving she worked in Metropolis and he operated in Gotham...Ah, well. “How long have you been Batman?”

“Twenty years.” Bruce answered after a moment. 

“I was eleven.”

“I was not.”

“I know. You have gray hair.” There was a smile, so much of her softening, calming, finding a steady heart rate, and as if she didn’t want to act out. It was good, nice, and she hoped it stayed that way. 

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Gives it away a bit?”

The silence fell between them while Laurel forced some food down. She wasn’t much in the mood for eating as of late, but if she was going to keep up her strength she had to. Unless she was going to end up falling on the floor. Another mess she didn’t want to deal with. Too many messes.

Her gaze settled on him and she definitely felt the weight of it all. “You calmed me down.”

“Talking can help.” Bruce all but dismissed. “It’s not a solution.” 

“I know a lot about temporary fixes.”

“Can you show me?”

Her eyebrow arched at him, “My temporary fixes?”

“Your cry.”

“I shouldn’t.” Laurel shook her head, suddenly feeling unsure. “I barely want Diana to see it and she’s Wonder Woman.”

“I’m not trying to be  _ controlling _ .”

Laurel smiled. 

“But…”

“Why do you want to help me?” It was the one thing she just couldn’t grasp. Why? Why did the guy who did lived in a glass house in the middle of nowhere want to help? She was a mess and it was difficult for her to process her death and move past it. She was struggling. But her breakdown hadn’t sent him running, instead he, well, she wasn’t going to praise him for the fact that her stuff was sitting in a pile next to her, but if she pulled her emotions out of it she could see that it was a gesture. 

“Why are you so insistent you can do everything without help?”

“Because I  _ always  _ did everything on my own.” She whispered her words, swallowing before looking up at him. “It’s easier to not be disappointed if you don’t have to rely on someone else to hold yourself up. At the end of the day no one is going to be there but you. John, Felicity, Thea, my father, Oliver...none of them could save me and I couldn’t save myself either, but it’s a very lonely thing...to know you died alone. When people are there they still aren’t. 

“You don’t have to do this on your own.”

Laurel resigned to him since it was easier and stood from the table. He led them both out of the glass doors and down the steps into the vast nothingness.

“It’s the middle of the night and you’re taking into the middle of nowhere.” That wasn’t suspicious at all.

“No one will see us.” Was the excuse he gave.

“You live in the middle of nowhere.” But the flashlight caught her eye. “You have a flashlight.”

“Always be prepared.”

“You sound like a boyscout.” Still, it didn’t stop Laurel from smiling. “Is that your house?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?” Not that she expected an answer. 

“It was burned.”

“When?”

“A while ago.”

“Am I asking too many questions?”

“No more than most.” He came to a stop. “You seem to care about the answers, most don’t.”

“There’s a difference between company for a night and company that lasts.” Laurel paused. “So you want me to just scream?”

“Yes.”

Laurel stood there for a moment, crossing her arms, unsure of herself. She hated that. A time came in which she felt powerful, like she knew what she was doing, as if she belonged out there. She wasn’t so sure anymore. She closed her eyes and let herself scream, the sonic cry coming from before her, taking over body, almost swearing she could feel herself vibrating. But she wasn’t stopping. Not until Bruce’s hands were on her hips.

“Steady.” She felt herself stabilize and when she ran out of breath stopped.

“Impressive.” 

“Lucky there’s nothing out here.”

“That’s why I brought you out here. You let the power control you, you need to control the power. You can. I don’t know what happened to you on your Earth, Laurel, but you are capable of more than you’re letting yourself be.”

“I wasn’t like this before. I didn’t care if they didn’t think I could do because I could. now, death, it just...death changes you. I want to do this, I think.”

“Scream again.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

She took a few breaths and tried to allow herself to be steady, to not let the power overcome her. It lasted only a few minutes before she was doing just that, letting the power consume her, watching as something was thrown into her vision, pulling herself from the cry as the objected crack and fell to the ground.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?”

Bruce walked and found it, picking up the pieces. “You cracked my batarang.”

Laurel smiled. “Can I keep this half?”

“Yes.”

When they went back inside she found everything cleaned but no sight of Alfred.

“Shower?” 

“Walk down and take a left.  I’ll be downstairs.”

“I don’t want to put you of your own house.”

“Go.”

Laurel grabbed her stuff and found herself walking into his bedroom. It was weird. Being in Batman’s room, Bruce Wayne’s room. Nothing she expected. She didn’t quite get why he wanted to keep an eye on her, but he was suspecting he was holding back more than he was actually sharing.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

After she showered she decided to leave Bruce alone. It was bad enough she essentially kicked him out of his own room. If you could call it that. It was more like a corner made to be his room. It was an odd house when she thought about it. Not really much a true house at all. More like a box. Instead she grabbed her files and sat on the bed. 

She didn’t feel the need to sleep. Instead poured over the case she was supposed to meet Lois about the next day. 

“I smell like a guy and I borrowed your shirt.” Laurel said once Bruce had found himself up stairs nearly an hour later and was watching her from the other side of the room.

“I doubt you smell like a guy.”

“So, why did you build this place like a box?”

“I wanted something different.” Bruce said as he moved over to the bed. “Do you want me to go?”

“We’re adults. You can sleep in your own bed.” She answered as she shut her case files. “So, the kid? You sure that’s a good idea?”

“No,” Bruce shook his head. “Better under my wing than letting him run around on his own.”

“How’s your team going?”

“Complications.”

Laurel turned and looked at him. “What are you holding back?” 

“Why do you have a meeting with Lois?”

Laurel didn’t answer but neither did Bruce. Instead they fell into something of a comfortable silence until she had nodded off. Not that she managed to get much sleep. When Bruce woke up panting she found her eyes open, trying to make sense of where she was and what happened.

“Are you okay?” She asked softly.

“Go back to sleep.”

Laurel sat up only to see the bottle in his hand. “How many do you take?”

“We’re not talking about this.”

“More than you should.” Laurel moved on her knees finding herself next to him, taking her turn to invade his personal space. “I think it’s my turn to tell you that you aren’t alone.” 

“You saw these earlier, didn’t you?” Bruce asked as he watched her.

“Yeah.”

“Take any?”

“No.” Laurel allowed her eyes to glance over at the bottle. “I don’t think if I step over that edge I could bring myself back. Not this time.”

“You’re stronger than you think.”

“Yeah?” Laurel smiled, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear. 

“Wayne Financial is in Metropolis. I can drive you tomorrow, to meet Lois. If that’s not too controlling.”

“That’s not too controlling.”

Bruce set the bottle of pills down on the nightstand. 

“Do you remember when I said you remind me of Ollie?” Her question was soft as she kept her gaze entirely on him. It felt different after her little breakdown, everything did. Getting her emotions out helped. Part of her wanted to run and hide but another part of her was fine being right there, close enough to hear the way he breathed, close enough to touch him if she wanted. She placed her hands in her lap instead, watching the way he watched her. 

“Vividly.” His own word wasn’t much louder than hers but the lack of enthusiasm was clear. 

It only caused her to smile, softly, still masking so much inside of her. “You’re nothing like him.” 

She finally felt like she could move on from her old life and try to make a new one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being way longer than intended with about 50% less plot, but I thought it was really important to focus on Laurel's mental state. She's been through a lot and so has Bruce. It all goes up from here.
> 
> [This](http://ben-wilsonham.deviantart.com/art/Amber-Heard-Black-Canary-388127853) is roughly what Laurel's new suit is meant to look like. I like how it fits in more with the DCEU vibe and because I did take inspiration from an artist, not a comic, I wanted to share it.


End file.
